


Long Road to Ruin

by ritsuko



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Airplanes, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bed Sex, Blackmail, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Bucky, Breeding, Broken Bucky Barnes, Bruises, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Captain America: The First Avenger, Chastity Device, Claiming, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Cages, Collars, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Shot, Couch Sex, Crying, Declarations Of Love, Depression, Desperation, Dominance, Drinking to Cope, Drugged Sex, Drugs, Drunk Sex, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Dry Orgasm, Facials, Feeding, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Guns, Hand Feeding, Heavy Drinking, Humiliation, Hydra (Marvel), Identity Reveal, Jealousy, Knotting, Leashes, Love Confessions, M/M, Master/Pet, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Men Crying, Military, Nightmares, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Omega Bucky Barnes, Oral Sex, Orders, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Piss, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Power Play, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Protective Steve, Protective Steve Rogers, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sappy, Self-Harm, Shooting Guns, Singing, Spanking, Stockholm Syndrome, Submission, Suicidal Thoughts, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vomiting, War, Watersports, Whump, World War II, giving in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3399842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritsuko/pseuds/ritsuko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the 107th is captured, Bucky is denied his suppressants. After several days the heat he goes into is maddening.</p><p>It also draws the attention of Johann Schmidt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, this is my first foray into A/B/O, so maybe I'm getting it right, maybe I'm not. I have a shitload planned for this, so enjoy it, or don't. If you like a shitload of character angst, maybe you'll like it. IDK. As always, I write to feed my own little brainworms; I only hope others enjoy as well. :3
> 
> Title is Based off of Foo Fighter's ['Long Road to Ruin'.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=308KpFZ4cT8) It has some lyrics that are damn good for the theme of this story.
> 
> Enjoy~!

The heat hits a week after they are taken prisoner.

It's not ideal, Bucky knows that it's because he hasn't taken his military grade suppressants. Just a few days without them and the heat crashes down, hot and furious. 

He grits his teeth. Without the medicine, he's putting off too strong of a scent. Whether he likes it or not, someone is going to claim him. 

Probably not anyone that he wants to.

The other men, for the most part, show restraint. That, and Dugan gives them all the eye. The larger man is no one that anyone wants to tussle with. Besides, he knows Bucky has someone waiting back at home. 

Someone he has to get back to.

It can't be kept hidden from the Germans. The scent is too strong. They come with guns, drag Bucky kicking and groaning, half fearful, half hard from their touches. He hates his omega body with a passion.

They toss him in a room, dimly lit, with nice furniture and the scent of oak and cognac. He sweats, looking around dizzily.

"It's surprising to me that the United States military would allow an omega to join the ranks." The man in the room states with a clipped German accent. Johann Schmidt is made up of hard angular lines and bitterness. Bucky's heard the rumors about the man; he's pure evil. 

But right now, he smells like heaven, strong alpha scent emanating off of him in waves that make his cock impossibly hard, and his hole start to moisten. 

He actually fucking salivates.

"Don't they understand the overwhelming number of things that can happen to a bitch in heat?" Schmidt chides.

The words are crude, nasty, and they are meant to be. He bites the inside of his mouth, staring at the floor. He thought he could make something of himself, make Stevie proud by leading the 107th. An omega sergeant. The army had told him plenty of omegas could join and fight the good fight, and still be able to go home afterwards and marry. Bucky had never just limited himself to that. He didn't want to be treated like someone's little wifey. Steve didn't want that either, always treated him like an equal.

He'd thought anything was possible with the suppressants. 

But HYDRA had taken them when he'd been captured. He knew that they did it to torture him. 

They'd known what he was.

He feels a gloved hand fist in his hair and jerk his head up. Before he can protest, Schmidt is rubbing his face against his tented trousers. He sputters, trying to escape that scent that invades his senses, that musk that screams for him to be filled and dominated. It's no use. He chokes on the smell, drinking it in like liquor that leaves him heady and loose. Bucky can't help but whimper, he hasn't gone through a heat this bad since his teens. He trembles, cursing his body responds to the German's touch. 

Bucky doesn't see the needle until it is jabbing into his neck, flooding his system. He groans, eyelids fluttering, as he feels his boxers go moist. He's so turned on, even the needle being pulled from his skin is orgasmic.

Schmidt grabs his face, strongly gripping his cheeks between his fingers and thumb. "Your shirt." He commands. "Lose it."

It's almost impossible to fight the command. Still, Bucky tries to spit on the other man but only winds up with a fat gob of drool dribbling down his chin. Schmidt frowns. 

"Ever the hero, eh?" He uses his index finger to wipe the drool all over his lips. Bucky winces, the leather dancing over his skin sets off flutters in his belly.

"My serum will not be halted by military grade heat repressants, Sergeant Barnes. It is much too strong for that. Besides," He pushes a finger into the brunettes mouth, and Bucky reluctantly allows the digit to roll on his tongue. It tastes of animal skin and musk, smells of gunpowder and tea. He shudders, as it is worked in and out of his mouth. His own cock is pressing uncomfortably against the fly of his pants.

There is pressure and a tearing sound as Schmidt rips his shirt open. His nipples are already peaked, pebbled by his arousal. The German's other hand strokes along his sternum, tantalizingly close to the sensitive buds sending a flutter of desire to his belly.

No. Not like this. Weakly, he struggles.

Schmidt's hand is like a vice, holding him there. The aroma of his dominance is cloying, luring him into a sense of submission that is getting harder and harder to break free of.

He doesn't realize the man's other hand isn't holding his face anymore, and barely registers the sound of the zipper. But then the tang of that musk is on the air, heady and thick. It's like cigars and liquor, pine needles and sulfur, like being spread open and fucked over and over. . .

His groan is muffled only by the digit in his mouth. Schmidt pulls it out, a bridge of spit still connecting his mouth to the leather. Bucky gazes up through half lidded eyes, blinking hard. It's so hard not to submit. 

Schmidt's cold, dark eyes watch him until he has to look away, breaking eye contact to look down.

Directly at Schmidt's cock.

Bucky's breath hitches, just staring at it.

It's gorgeous. The thick member is uncut, head jutting proudly just inches from his lips. It's thicker, longer than any he's ever seen. The whole of it is an angry red color, and for a moment, Bucky wonders if there is something seriously wrong with the man. But the cock looks strong, and smells so good. He wants to run his tongue over the veins bulging through the skin.

No. . . he closes his eyes. He doesn't. That's not what he wants at all. 

And then the tip of that cock is resting against his lips.

Bucky groans. It's a mistake, as a droplet of Schmidt's precum lands on his lips, pungent and salty. He licks his lips, and the other man smears his cock against them. Another groan, and the Nazi uses it to his advantage, popping the tip into his mouth.

It tastes amazing. Bucky doesn't even have to be prodded to take more of the length into his mouth, all thoughts of how wrong this is flitting from his head. His pants are soaked completely through, hole twitching with the desire to be bred. He allows his tongue to lave at the dick in his mouth, memorizing every ridge, every vein, every smooth expanse and wrinkle. 

He can barely believe it when his nose is nestled in Schmidt's pubic hair. Breathing deeply, that musk makes his head loll, throat constricting along that massive member.

"Sehr schön," Schmidt murmurs, then pulls out. A slight whine leaves Bucky's nose, until Schmidt slams back in. The brunette's eyes bulge with the pressure, as the German starts to ram into his mouth. Instinctively, he goes slack, eliciting a pet on the head that sends shivers of pleasure running through his frame.

The man fucks his mouth hard, as tears stream out the corners of his eyes and drool dribbles down his chin. Schmidt's cock batters the inside of his mouth and throat, but the taste is so erotic, he can't help but suck and lick under the barrage. He has to fight to keep from touching himself, but his cock feels like it's on fire, he needs some friction, anything-

Schmidt practically crows when he sees the brunette's hands snaking downwards. "Not so fast bitch. You get to play with that if I tell you to." One by one, he guides the soldier's hands to each pert nipple as Bucky glares up at him, eyes hateful and unfocused. "Play with your pretty little tits, mein Hündin."

He can't disobey, the hard pebbled flesh under his hands feel soothed by his fingertips, and he rolls each bud between a thumb and forefinger. His hips buck in time to the thrusting in his mouth. Whining, he looks up at the other man who gazes at him triumphantly. Schmidt pulls out from the brunette's mouth and rests his cock against the panting man's cheek.

"Strip."

The command is obvious, and Bucky can't deny it. Quickly he rises shimmying out of his pants and slides the remnants of the shirt off of his shoulders. All he is left in are his socks. Schmidt appraises him and a twinge of rebellion flickers through him, tells him that this should not be, that there is someone else-

"On the couch."

Just the tone makes him shudder, backing up until the backs of his calves hit the back of the leather. He tries to sit, when Schmidt clucks his tongue at him. "Hands and knees, Hündin."

Rage flares up in him. "Not on your life, you fucking Kraut!" He snaps, but the tone falls flat and breathless. The air almost crackles with Schmidt's displeasure, and the other man is suddenly upon him, slamming him down against the cushions.

"If you'd rather watch as I penetrate you, I can gladly accommodate." The Nazi leers at him, between his legs and body dominant over his own. Bucky gulps.

Schmidt strokes a finger against his hole, already weeping for an Alpha to stuff it full of his seed. He can smell the other man's musk, strong and dominating, thick and pungent. It's making it hard to want to fight back. His mind is turning to syrup, cock twitching in the cool air, and it's all he can do to fight the instinct to hump nothing.

He can feel the other man's index finger push into him with little resistance, and desire curdles through his belly. Bucky has to bite his lip to keep from moaning aloud. This isn't what he wants. Not like this. 

Bucky had an alpha, someone he loved, someone a whole world away. He was glad that Stevie couldn't see this, couldn't know what was happening to him. 

He tries to focus on anything else, even as delicious pinpricks of fire melt through him.

Hot sticky nights in Brooklyn with the window cracked and the heat so strong, so powerful. Steve over him trying so hard to maintain an erection, his knot unable to swell to its full size due to his list of ailments. Bucky grinding on his fingers as the blonde worked his cock, tears in his eyes as he was unable to give his omega what he needed. Fingers spread, sandwiched between the blonde's cock and his inner walls as he caressed his sweet spot, able to send Bucky over the edge with that alone. Steve's release came soon after; a thin stream of come that made him grimace. He tried to pull away afterwards. The brunette would have none of of it, and wrapped his legs around the blonde's pelvis.

"Stay inside me." He murmured, and Steve complied, knowing that even with his sickly health, Bucky would never choose another alpha.

He could have lost himself in the memory, if not for Schmidt's fingers working his weeping hole. Involuntarily, his hips bucked up into the sensation. Schmidt chuckled as he skillfully brushed against his prostate, making his legs turn to jelly.

"So strong for an omega, Sergeant Barnes," Schmidt coos at him as those fingers scissor deep inside. Bucky grunts, unable to keep himself from thrashing against the fingers inside. He can feel his own orgasm building.

But then Schmidt removes his fingers. His hole clenches at the loss, twitching relentlessly to be filled. He can feel his own juices dripping down his thighs.

He can see that cock line up to him, and he panics. There's no way that it can fit. But his body wants, no NEEDS, it to. The German lines up to his weeping pucker and starts to push in. Bucky is shocked at just how easily the thing starts to slide in, his hole clenching greedily around the girth. The head of Schmidt's cock flits over his sweet spot and he mewls, hips jerking upwards with need.

Schmidt takes that as an invitation. Without warning, he slams the rest of his cock in until his swollen balls slap against the brunette's ass. He makes a choked sound, insides stuffed full of the other man, but the German does not lose tempo, just drags his cock out against his prostate and slams in again. And again, and again.

The fire in Bucky's belly feels like it's being stoked, short little staccato grunts slipping from his lips. His hands start to wander again to his cock, and Schmidt slaps them away. Growling in frustration, he returns to pinching his nipples, rolling and stretching them beneath his fingertips. His hips move in time to the other man's thrusts, slamming them together stickily.

He feels like he's going to explode.

Schmidt comes hard, and Bucky screams his own orgasm, come arcing through the air to splatter on his cheek. His insides a battered with the other man's juices, belly warm and the fires slightly tamped down. The Nazi pushes flush to him, so he can feel the rim of his hole start to stretch under the swelling of the other man's knot. It grows impossibly huge, like a fist inside him and he moans, his own cock dribbling the last bit of come pent up inside him. Schmidt stares down at him, foreboding and totally dominant. 

There's a reason he's on his back, belly to the alpha. He unwittingly submitted. His arms fall to his sides, exhausted.

"I can tell that you are a good choice in mate. Strong. Perhaps the birth won't kill you." Schmidt pets his belly full of cock and seed. Bucky can't help but whimper. Every ounce of constraint screams how vile this man, how wrong it is, how he didn't want this. But his body relishes the touch, relaxes against the other man's chest, radiating with the delicious warmth inside of him. The knot inside him throbs, and even as tears slip down his cheeks, his body rejoices at being taken and filled.

"Fuck you." He mumbles, even as the other man's hands reach up to pluck at his nipples. Just the touch makes him moan, grind that cock harder into his ass. 

Schmidt chuckles. "My pretty little Hündin, I shall be fucking you. Again, and again. While the Nazis storm the world I will seed you as I see fit, and you will crawl at my feet, swollen with my child. You will beg me for it."

The bile rises in Bucky's throat, but the demanding throb of the knot in him makes him complacent, makes him feel content. He knows it's a part of his biology telling him that this is right and he should give in.

It's so hard not to.

All he can think of is Stevie. He should be the one between his legs, claiming him, mating to him. Filling him with their child.

A sob rips from his throat.

"There, there," the Nazi clucks his tongue, one fingertip tracing the side of his face to catch a tear and a bit of stray semen. He then brings the finger up to Bucky's mouth, and he catches the salt taste of it on his tongue. "Just feel me in you. You know you could never be better used by another."

Even though he loves Steve, those hot summer nights and soft caresses, the sweetness of his mouth on his cock, a traitorous side of Bucky knows the claim to be true.

More tears slip past down cheeks, even as his hole twitches for more.


	2. Thirst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, PLEASE read the tags. A lot more messed up ones have been added. You have been warned.

Schmidt fucks him over and over for the remainder of the night. Bucky feels wholly and utterly drained, stuffed full of spunk and dirty. There's something comforting bout being covered in the scent of an alpha, until he remembers it's not Steve's.

Guards drag him to another room and strap him to a table, and he sees the bespectacled face of Arnim Zola creepily watching him. The man brings over a damp cloth and starts wiping him down, everywhere save in between his legs. He hates to admit it, but it soothes his tired muscles, and he can feel his eyelids start to droop. Half asleep, he notices as Zola preps another needle, and he watches warily. It's impossible to fight back as the other man plunges the needle into his arm.

"Sleep now, Herr Barnes. You will feel much better after you rest." The little man strokes his sweaty hand across Bucky's brow, and he shivers. Still, the night's exertions catch up with him and he can't help but fall into a fitful sleep.

There's nothing behind his eyelids but darkness and things trying to grab him, the sound of bullets raining all around him. 

Schmidt, calling him his Hündin. Submitting to him. Taking his cock as Steve watches, then finally turning away from him as he reaches out. . .

Bucky screams, jolting awake. Dizzily, he looks around the room, panting softly. He wishes it was a nightmare, but the scent of the Nazi is still all over him. 

He can smell the sour stench of Zola in the room, and his nose wrinkles. Soon, the little troll of a man is right next to him, holding a cup of water up to his lips. He drinks greedily, a bit of the fluid leaking down his chin.

"Ah, awake. Gut. Only sixteen hours. Much better than the others." 

The brunette doesn't know what he's talking about, only that the fire in his body has started anew. But something feels off. His cock feels like it's burning. Raising his head, he gasps in horror, and starts struggling anew.

There's some sort of metal piece on his cock, caging it in to prevent him from getting hard. He can't help but scream, thrashing against the table. Zola raises his hands, tries to shush him, but he's wild eyed and furious.

He's finally found his voice. "What is that? What the fuck is that you sick kraut bastard? Take it off! Take it off right now!" He bellows, body straining hard against the straps. For a moment, Zola looks fearful, but then grins as Bucky's attempts are fruitless. 

"So angry, you American swine. You will be fine. You have been fitted with a contraption that will keep you from getting too aroused and spilling your filthy semen on our Obergruppenführer. Besides," He smirks, teeth gleaming yellow in the ill lit room, "Your release is only at his will."

Bucky snarls, seeing red. "When I get the chance, you lousy bastard, I'm gonna knock your damn teeth out!"

Zola's smile falters and he frowns. He turns and grabs something off of a table and comes back over to his head. Bucky watches him, ready to bite him if he can. The man grabs his hair, jerking back roughly. His mouth opens with an indignant squawk, long enough for the other man to slip some form of a gag into his mouth. It pushes his mouth wide open so he can't close it. He cries out through the hole in the middle, a desperate angry sound, and Zola chuckles. 

"Now now, you be a good boy." He admonishes, before turning back to his table. "You will not want to make Herr Schmidt wait."

He turns back with another of those damnable needles, and Bucky strains against his bonds. He's not going to let these sick bastards keep pumping him full of God knows what. Zola curses and picks up a handkerchief, pushing it up against his nose. Suddenly, he stiffens, the scent of Schmidt pervading his senses. He can feel his hole clench and start to weep again, cock straining against the contraption confining him. He whines lowly, unable to fend off the sudden heat enveloping him. 

Zola stabs the needle into his thigh and he can immediately feel the liquid course through his veins. Somehow, he feels energized, even as his mind feels hazy. Greedily, he drinks in the scent of the alpha on the piece of cloth in front of his nostrils, squirming and twitching. 

The disgusting little man pets his thigh. "Good boy. You're going to keep being good, ja? You don't want to misbehave for your alpha, now do you?" Bucky glares balefully at the other man, even as his nipples prick with heat. "You want him to fill you with his delicious sperm, right?"

Even as his hole twitches hungrily, Bucky jerks his head to the sides. Drool dribbles out of the corner of his mouth, thinking of the tall man dominating him again. His eyes flutter shut even as he keeps telling himself that he doesn't want it.

He doesn't, but he does. 

He hates himself for it.

Just remembering the previous night, being claimed, taken so hard, it's nearly impossible to fight his instincts and think of Steve. A tear slips down his cheek and Zola wipes it away. "There, there, Hündin, he will soothe your body soon enough."

Footsteps recede and Bucky blinks his eyes open in confusion. Zola is gone, having left him alone in this room. He moans in frustration, his arousal maddening. Again, he wriggles, hopeless that any good will come of it.

One of the leather straps scrapes against a pert nipple, and his eyes roll back in his head. Grunting in frustration, he moves more, only to have the sensation tease over his other nipple. His moan is high and reedy, sounds nothing like himself, but he's part caring.

He needs something.

Slowly, he starts to rock back and forth, abusing his swollen buds with the harsh leather strap. Back and forth, back and forth, until it's almost easy to imagine them being plucked and rolled between strong fingertips.

He inhales. Schmidt's glove clad fingertips. 

With a whimper, he ruts harder, panting raggedly through the gag. He can feel a gush of fluid from his ass as it prepares him in hopes for penetration, and his bound cock flops helplessly between his legs.

It feels like an eternity, maddening and hot as he works himself into a fervor. As he tosses his head, the handkerchief falls to the floor and he cries out at the loss of his mate's scent-

-no! Not his mate!-

Only to still smell that powerful aroma in the room. 

Dazed, he looks up to see Schmidt staring down at him. Calculating. Foreboding. Utterly dominant.

"Do you want to come?" He asks, eyebrow raised.

Bucky breathes raggedly, hoping that if he can just hold out, the other man will leave. Even as he thinks it, he knows it's impossible. His body craves the other man on top of him. A low moan escapes his open mouth.

Schmidt walks closer tracing a finger up his side. He shivers under the touch, the feel of the calfskin along his flesh only stokes the embers of fire in his belly. Again he moans. The other man's fingers dance across his chest, teasing in such a way the Bucky's practically vibrating off of the table. 

He can't form words with the gag in his mouth, tongue lolling slightly over its rim. Nonetheless, the sound that escapes from his throat is high and begging.

"Do you crave my come, Hündin?"

Bucky feels half mindless, his head nodding against his own will. Schmidt chuckles softly.

He starts to move undo the straps around Bucky's legs, pulls out stirrups to attach to the sides of the table, and locks each leg up into one. Then he pushes the table in, just so the brunette's ass is slightly hanging off of it. His body is already trembling in anticipation as he hears the other man's zipper come down. Musk fills the air, leaving him heady.

Yes yes yes please please please. . . The silent mantra runs through his head as he feels Schmidt line his dripping cock to his hole. The pucker clenches at the feel, and Schmidt grins triumphantly down at him.

"So impatient, Liebling. What is it you want?" He pulls back slightly and Bucky mewls, tears springing to his eyes, all sense lost. He needs to be filled, needs to be bred NOW. . .

Schmidt rams in hard enough that he sees stars. Once he bottoms out, he stills, staring impassively down at the brunette. Bucky can't help but twitch and moan at the feeling of every delicious inch of cock within him. With a whimper, he grinds his ass against the front of Schmidt's pants.

The other man's hand snakes through his hair, grabs him hard by the roots. Bucky cries out, but it's hard to tell if it's from pain or arousal. Maybe both. He feels like he's going mad, balls tight and the device round his cock constricting. He wants hands all over his body, that cock to move.

"Do you want my sperm in you, Hündin?" Schmidt asks, rolling his hips once. Bucky groans, fists clenching and unclenching in his torment, an choked whimper escaping his open mouth. "Do you want me to ease your fires?"

Half crazed, Bucky nods, grinding fervently again.

Schmidt leans forward and unbuckles the gag. Coughing roughly, the brunette works the tension out of his jaw. Schmidt's fingers squeeze his cheeks together, locking eyes upon his own.

"Submit to me. You belong to me, for now and forever. You will abandon all thoughts of returning to your country, you will only think of pleasuring me. You will call me Master." Schmidt demands, face close enough to him that he can feel flecks of spittle on his cheeks.

Bucky feels as if he's at war with himself. He knows this isn't what he wants. He could never betray America. He could never live without seeing Steve again.

But. . . his subconscious betrays him, goading him into submission. 

_Steve could never fill you like this._

_He could never fill you with child._

_This is all you're good for._

_A strong alpha, to breed you._

_He can protect you._

_You should be proud that someone so powerful chose you._

_If it's Schmidt, it will be okay._

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, stops breathing. If he can't see, the other man, can't smell him, it's slightly easier to think. Schmidt's cock still twitches inside him, and he bites the inside of his lip, willing his brain to stop turning to jelly.

He imagines those eyes, those bottomless blue eyes and thin little arms that used to wrap around him, soft lips flush against his own, and low murmurs of "I love you, Buck."

Determined, he opens his eyes, the fire in his loins mere embers compared to his hateful stare. "Fuck you, you kraut piece of shit! I'm not yours! I'll never be yours! You can go-"

He's cut off as Schmidt backhands him. It feels like the man's hand is a bag of bricks. Head lolling to the side, he looks up into that displeased face. The cock recedes.

And them slams back into him, Schmidt setting a hellishly brutal pace. The table underneath him creaks with the force of each thrust. With each determined stroke, the Nazi brushes against his sweet spot, agonizing the little cluster of nerves. His caged cock bounces with every thrust, his nipples scrape across the straps. It's agonizing, it feels like the other man is going to split him in two. 

Then Schmidt pulls out, and before he can protest, he's cumming all over him, all over his cock and torso. The streams of white seem to go on forever, and Bucky cries out, hole twitching with need. His whole body feels like it's in flames, and the semen coating him is doing nothing to quell it.

Schmidt easily pries his mouth open and sticks the tip in, the taste and scent easily enough for him to lose his mind. His tongue darts out, greedily lapping up the man's sperm, flicking into his slit to get all of the man's release. His own cock bulges against the device holding it, his whole body tense with the need to come. 

Once clean, the cock pops out of his mouth and Schmidt slaps his face with it.

"Do you want this?" He asks again, and Bucky nods, eyes hazed, noting the other man's knot slightly puffed up. A knot that should be inside him, stretching him. He whimpers.

That cock slaps his face again. "Do you want my cock, Hündin?"

He starts to nod when he notes Schmidt's commanding look.

"Y-yes." He gasps,, and the other man pinches a nipple relentlessly. Bucky's back arches against the table, taut as a bowstring.

"Yes, what?" Schmidt snarls, and Bucky swallows.

His head is fuzzy, body screaming with the need to come. If he doesn't, he might start crying. It feels like he's being burned inside out, and Schmidt is the only one who can put it out. Finally, he breaks. "Yes Master. I want your cock."

Schmidt's eyes narrow to slits, pleased with himself.

Despite himself, Bucky leans up to nuzzle along the other man's shaft. He wonders what he must look like, that shaft draped over his face like he's a common whore, but he doesn't care. At this point, he'll take it.

But then Schmidt pulls away. "You want everything I have to give you?"

Bucky groans."Yes, please Master. Please." Schmidt's hands card through his hair before he realizes that the other man is putting the gag back in his mouth. In irritation, he gnashes his teeth down on the metal ring. 

"Quiet. I am about to give you something special. Be grateful." The Nazi orders, and the brunette quiets. Much to his dismay, Schmidt doesn't nestle between his legs again, but slips his cock through the o-ring of the gag. Bucky is again rewarded with the tangy musk of the other man, and he starts to suck in hopes of arousing the other man to fuck him.

The first stream of piss is a shock, he shudders and flails in his bonds. His mouth is rapidly filling with the stinking fluid and Bucky starts to choke, eyes watering.

"Swallow." Schmidt orders, and Bucky stares incredulously up at him, cheeks bulging with the urine. Then Schmidt plugs his nose. 

He has no choice but to gulp the hot piss down, bitter taste coating his throat. Schmidt must have held it for a long time, because it feels like minutes have passed before the constant jet turns into a slow dribble, and then errant droplets. Bucky is quivering, rank taste in his mouth and tears flowing freely down his cheeks. 

"Lick me clean." Comes the next order, and the brunette does so, laving at the man's slit and foreskin. The more he tastes, the more he grows used to it, the bitterness that is laced with his alpha's scent. He can feel his hole moistening.

Bucky closes his eyes. How fucking sick he is right now, to get aroused from this.

Schmidt's cock pulls out of his mouth and he looks up again, eyes pleading to be filled after putting up with so much indecency. The Nazi runs a gloved finger through the trail of his semen on the bound man's belly and smirks. Carefully, he wipes it on the younger man's upper lip. Bucky groans at the musky scent. Surely now Schmidt will claim him.

"I want you to think about what a bad little bitch you have been. I want you to feel nothing in your empty hole, want you to realize that only I am going to give you pleasure. But you do not deserve it." Schmidt's boots click as he makes his way towards the door. Bucky makes a pained sound, tongue lolling out of the gag.

"When you deserve it, perhaps I will breed you again, my little Hündin."

Even as he leaves, Bucky's needy screams follow Schmidt down the hall.

He smiles.


	3. Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, PLEASE read the tags. A lot more messed up ones have been added. You have been warned.

Bucky would have liked to think he could have held out longer.

But after ten days, he cracks.

They'd moved him to a small room, arms locked together, still crusty with Schmidt's release. The smell is getting to him. The Nazi had marked him, claimed him, and he can feel the edges of his sanity wearing thin. Anytime he's been fed, it's been liquid through the gag.

There's something wrong with him, and the heat that will not subside. It could be the injections Zola has been giving him, four times a day now. It could be the scent of the alpha coating him. Every day, Schmidt has come in, jerked off on him, watched him beg, and left.

But now, there are no more barriers to break down. Bucky has tried everything, from thinking of Steve, to fucking himself on his own fingers, without any relief. All he can think of is Schmidt's cock spearing him, filling him. 

He needs him.

All he can do is cry out and stick his fingers in his ass, just barely out of reach of his prostate. His cock feels like it's going to explode, the cage hasn't been taken off at all and the flesh beneath is an angry red. He's had to squat in a corner to relieve himself, like a dog.

He wants to die.

The door slowly opens, and he looks up, dazed. Schmidt is standing, resplendent in his dress uniform. Bucky's eyelid's flutter and his cheeks burn red. His fingers are in his ass, but he doesn't care. He makes a plaintive whine through the gag. 

"Hündin." Schmidt calls to him, and he struggles to sit up, fingers slipping out of his pucker. "Are you thirsty?"

It's a trick question. He knows if he shakes his head, the other man will piss on him. If he nods, Schmidt will still piss on him. There has been little variation in the last week. 

It doesn't matter anymore. He knows it will happen either way, so he lolls his tongue out of the gag, mouth wide and receiving. He honestly can't even tell if he hates it anymore with how badly the heat is affecting him. The corner of Schmidt's mouth quirks up, barely.

The man steps in closer, and bucles a collar around his throat. Tight, but not so tight that he can't breathe. It's connected to a leash. He looks quizzically up at the other man, but Schmidt just ruffles his gloved hand through his hair, as one would a dog. "We're going for a walk."

Bucky starts to rise to his feet when the other man pushes him back down. "On all fours, Hundin." He demands, and Bucky flinches at the ice in his tone. Lowering to his hands and knees, he at least is thankful that there is enough chain between his hands so he can put one hand in front of the other. Schmidt runs a hand down his spine, pleased, and Bucky shivers with need. "Do you want me to stuff you full of cock?"

The brunette shivers, head jerkily nodding up and down. For days, all he has thought about is the other man pounding into him, filling him. He moans. Schmidt, smooths a hand over a buttock, as if calming a horse.

"Soon, liebling. But you must be good." Schmidt loops a piece of fabric over his eyes and blindfolds him. Once it is secure, Bucky can see nothing save for a slight sliver of light from the bottom. He has no time to ponder it as Schmidt leads him through the hallways.

The metal floors are cold and nuts and bolts scrape at his knees, but still he follows obediently. The twists and turns they make are so many that it makes his head spin, makes him scrabble to keep up.

Metal turns to rock, and the air smells colder, mustier. it still scrapes his hands and knees, but he's so happy to be allowed to move around that he almost doesn't care. It's like he's being lulled into complacency.

They stop finally, and he can hear the murmur of voices all around them. They suddenly go quiet. Schmidt starts speaking rapidly in German and he can't discern any of the words. Theres the spicy stench of a room full of alphas; the smell alone is enough to make his hole moisten. He can't help but be restless, his cock is taut in the cage and his nipples are brushing ever so slightly against his forearms. He groans, and there is a slight tug on the leash. 

Right. Be good.

Schmidt's hand is suddenly on the back of his neck, releasing the gag. It slips out of his mouth, and he feels drool dripping down his chin. He pants softly, and an appreciative murmur runs through the crowd.

"Are you still thirsty, Hündin?" Schmidt asks, and he knows it's a test. At this point, he'll do anything to be filled again, give anything to make the heat go away.

"Yes, Master." He answers softly, and he hears titters from men in the front row.

Schmidt tugs sharply on the leash. "Louder, mein Hündin!" He snaps, and a shiver goes through the brunette. 

"Yes, Master, please let me drink!" He yells, voice hoarse from days with the gag in his mouth. There are all sorts of noises around him from cheers to low noises of dissent. None of the noises matter save for the sound of Schmidt's zipper working down, the feel of his cock brushing against his lips. Greedily, he opens his mouth, and the first few bitter droplets hit his tongue. He leaves his mouth wide open, adam's apple bobbing as he drinks down the musky liquid. eyelids fluttering behind the blindfold. The stream continues for nearly a full minute and tapers off, and Bucky leans forward to take the cock in his mouth and lap away the excess. The room erupts in all sorts of tumultuous noise, loud cheers and yells.

Then Schmidt tears the blindfold off. 

Bucky is disoriented for a moment, but then recognizes the familiar stone walls and iron bars of the holding cells. HYDRA soldiers are standing all around, jeering at him, and behind the bars, his men star in horror. The looks on their faces are plain as day. Shock. Disgust. Anger. The pit drops out of his stomach.

They all see him for the omega bitch he is. Tears start to spring to his eyes, and he starts to pull away, but suddenly Schmidt's hand is firm on the back of his skull. Bucky raises hesitant eyes to him.

"You will suck me. You will enjoy it. If you do not, I will have my men start shooting each one in the head for every second you delay." 

He can tell by Schmidt's gaze that he is serious. Swallowing around that length, he wastes no time. The cock disappears into his mouth slowly until Schmidt's course pubic hair is against his nose. He breathes deeply, thankful that the alpha's scent is nearly intoxicating. He doesn't need prodding, he starts corkscrewing his mouth down the length, taking care to lick along every vein and sucking for all he's worth. Schmidt stares down at him, eyes black, dominating and sure. Bucky can't help but fold.

Suddenly, the other man is pulling out, spraying his face with his seed. Bucky leaves his mouth wide open, catching globs that don't fall on his eyelids. Again, the cock nudges his lips, and he greedily licks it, lapping the last remnants of spunk from the slit.

Hesitantly, he opens one eye. The other is too coated in semen to open. Schmidt leers down at him. He knows without being told what his alpha wants. The tip of Schmidt's cock slips from his lips. 

"Thanks you master, for your delicious fluids." He croaks. The HYDRA agents all around cheer at the display. Bucky notes that most of them have tented pants, just from watching. He doesn't know how it makes him feel.

One of the prisoners slams against the bars, screaming loud. "Snap out of it, Sergeant!" 

Bucky whips his head over to see Timothy Dugan shaking the bars, yelling in rage. "Don't you let these Nazi bastards win! You fight them! You're better than-" There's a grunt of pain as the butt of one of the soldier's guns connects to the side of the man's head. Bucky tries to catch a look of the fallen man, but Schmidt tugs on his leash. It's time to go. As they are walking up the hall, he passes the leash onto Zola, who seems to have materialized out of nowhere.

"Bathe him thoroughly. Then, bring him to my chambers." Schmidt gazes down at him, intent clear in his eyes. "Tonight, you get your little reward, Hündin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TUMBLR!](http://ritsuko-chan.tumblr.com)
> 
> As always, I'd love comments! They're what keeps me going. :D


	4. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, PLEASE read the tags. A lot more messed up ones have been added. You have been warned.

He's being led down a hall, but he doesn't notice anything around him. Zola had washed him down, cleaned his insides out with warm water, even brushed his teeth. He did not take off the cage around his manhood. 

Bucky doesn't really care anymore. His body feels feverish, as if he's sick. He knows that the only thing that will make him better is Schmidt's cock.

Resigned, he follows along, head drooping.

Zola leads him into a resplendent little room. There is a bed one one side of the room four postered and oak, with dark colored bedding on it. On the other side, there is a table with one chair. The smell of cooked meat fills the room. Bucky's mouth waters. It's been too long since he's eaten a home cooked meal, and the last week of a liquid diet has done nothing to curb the knawing hunger in his belly. Zola leads him next to the table and unclips his leash.

The brunette starts to rise, eyes on the small feast. There's more food than he would have thought. A small beef roast sits on the table, steaming as if it has just come from the oven. There's a bowl of roasted potatoes, and another of green beans; a loaf of bread, butter, and even a pie. There's a large pitcher on the table, and he wonders what there is to drink. He is almost to his feet when Zola slaps the back of his legs with the leash, and the brunette reflexively falls back to his knees. Balefully, he glares up at the other man.

"You must wait on the floor. You will be fed as soon as Herr Schmidt arrives." He admonishes as he makes his way to the door. "I would not even dream of taking a bite if I were you, unless you want him to be angry."

Bucky swallows; he already knows what Schmidt is like angry. Resigned, he sits, hugging his knees to his chest. Zola leaves.

The food is maddening. His hunger is just like the heat, a need that cannot be satisfied. Although he feels like eating would just make the heat worse, make his body more energized and in need. He's finally gotten used to the burning ache in his constricted cock, so what's a little more time for his belly?

He grimaces, leaning forward to rest his chin on his knees. He can wait. 

Bucky's already withstood so much more.

Minutes pass. He knows it's deliberate, knows that it's meant to break him down. Still, it feels like a hand is gripping tighter and tighter around his ragged heart, squeezing the life out of him. He doesn't want this.

Furtively, he glances at the table, the steak knife oh so delicately laid out next to the plate, gleaming in the candlelight. For a moment, he has the mad idea that he could end it all.

It's stupid, a cowards way. Nothing that Sergeant Barnes of the 107th would ever lower himself to. But he doesn't want to be bred, be an omega slave to Nazi scum. His hand twitches upwards, considering.

Then it falls. 

He can't. If he succeeds, who knows what will happen to the men? Schmidt had seemed adamant that if his orders were not followed, they would die brutally.

But, maybe. . . he swallows, imagining sinking that knife deep into the alpha's chest. With Schmidt dead. . .

Nothing would change. Someone else would step up to take his place. Perhaps they would pass him around, make him service everyone. He shudders. It wouldn't get his men free, and that action could probably get him in just as much trouble.

If he failed, he could only imagine the rage of an injured Schmidt. No one would be safe. 

There was nothing that he could do.

The tears are trekking down his face, gasping sobs tearing through him before he realizes it. He hates the war, hates Schmidt, hates being an omega. His breath hitches, and he gasps for air like he's drowning.

_Breathe, Stevie, just breathe._ The memory comes unbidden, filling his senses. A hand on that frail back, guiding him through a panic attack. Those blue, blue eyes scrunched up in pain. Shaking hands, so small, so cold.

But he never made a sound, never cried or screamed or moaned about it. Steve was the brave one, with his frame trembling under his soothing hands. 

_Breathe, Bucky, just breathe._ His own breathe catches as he can almost imagine it: the soft hands of his love rubbing soothing circles on his back,face slightly over his, lips close enough to kiss. He doesn't want to open his eyes and ruin the spell. He just wants to pretend they're in Brooklyn, poor, and cold and completely happy because they have each other.

The door opens, Bucky looks up, and all traces of Steve dissipate. 

That was then. He blinks back tears.

This is now.

Schmidt doesn't even look down at him as he makes his way over to the table and sits. The instant that alpha scent hits him, Bucky can't help but squirm, intoxicated with lust. He needs to be filled, needs the heat to subside. A choked whimper escapes his throat, but Schmidt pays him no mind, just continues to spear a large piece of meat on a fork and start to cut it into tiny bites. Bucky's mouth waters. 

The other man pays him no mind, keeps serving himself hand eating. Finally, he pours from the pitcher. A stream of delicious smelling wine pours forth into a fluted glass, which he fastidiously sniffs before drinking. Somberly, Bucky rests his gaze on the floor.

After a few moments, there is a small clatter on the floor, and Bucky's eyes dart up to a small bowl that has been laid at Schmidt's feet. He looks between it and the other man, for a moment, until Schmidt gives him a curt nod of allowance. 

Slowly, he places one hand in front of him, then the next. Arms shaking, he makes his way on hands and knees to the bowl, to peer into it. His stomach falls.

No food, just wine.

He considers lashing out, biting Schmidt's leg like the dog he wants him to be, but it won't solve anything. He can't go back to the quarantine room again; he just can't.

Begrudgingly, he starts to reach for the bowl, but then remembers Zola slapping his legs, being paraded on a leash. His head droops. 

The first lap of wine is humiliating. Down on his elbows with his ass up in the air like an animal. But the drink is much better than anything he's had in days, much better than any wine he's ever drank, to be honest. After the third unsuccessful lap of his tongue, he lowers himself to dipping his whole mouth in, chin submerged. On an empty belly, he's tipsy in no time. Greedily, he sucks it down. 

Maybe it will make what is about to come that much easier.

When he is at the point of licking the bowl clean, he does so, a warm fuzzy feeling permeating his being. He wants to laugh at how fucking stupid this is, and probably would if it wouldn't offend his new master. 

A new master that he looks up at out of the corner of his eye. Schmidt is watching him, a slight smile playing on his lips. Wine gone, Bucky obediently sits back, kneeling with his fists upon the expensive carpet. 

Then, the unthinkable happens. Schmidt picks up a piece of meat and places it in the palm of his hand, extended invitingly. Bucky stares longingly at the meat, slightly pink and juicy, swallowing harshly. He can't trust that he won't be punished for eating without being told to.

"Good boy," Schmidt murmurs. "Come here. When I offer you food from my hand, you may eat."

It should shame him just how quickly he crawls forth, how delicately he takes that piece from his Schmidt's hand. The roast, albeit a little cold, is perfect. He rolls the piece over and over in his mouth, savoring it as if he'll never get another piece again, and this was just one occurrence. Despite himself, his tongue darts out to lap up the juicy residue on the palm of Schmidt's glove.

Schmidt makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat. "Tonight, mein Hündin, I will fill you with my child."

The thought shouldn't excite him as much as it does. Finally, the heat burning off, getting filled with that magnificent cock again. . . he whines softly, and Schmidt shushes him. "Soon, Hündin. But you must eat, keep your strength up. For when I fuck you, it will be all night long. I expect you to keep up."

Bucky's hole goes slick in anticipation, and getting bred suddenly becomes the only thing on his mind. But Schmidt is firm; lays the plate and the remnants of his food on the ground, and he balks at how much food there is left to eat. But he has to, if he wants his alpha to fuck him.

With each bite, the hunger becomes stronger. His cock, throbbing in the cage, makes him shift uncomfortably, his ass in the air dribbling anticipation down the back of his legs. Even over the scent of his food, he smells the desperation, the need to breed in his scent. It would be embarrassing in normal society, back home, when omegas stayed indoors and hid from the world lest anyone catch their filthy, aroused scent.

Now, it's slightly comforting. The wine has dulled his inhibitions, made him realize just how easy it could be to give in to the needs of his body. 

As long as Schmidt fucks him, he'll do whatever it takes.

He licks the plate clean, stomach full and satisfied. But the rest of him has even greater needs. Slowly, he rests his head on Schmidt's knee, nuzzling softly. If only his scent affected the alpha, as that strong scent affects him. Blinking up, he can feel his breath go shallow, eyes lidded with need. The Nazi stares down expectantly.

"May I suck you, Master?" Bucky begs, and there is a small pang of shame to hear it. He quickly quells it; it doesn't matter anymore. He needs it.

Fingers ruffle through his hair, a soft throaty laugh bubbling from Schmidt's lips. "You want my seed so badly Hündin?"

"Yes, Master," he breathes, easily lulled into complacency by a kind touch. His skin feels like it's on fire, needs to be doused.

The fingers clench in his hair, pain ripping through his scalp. Schmidt rises and jerks him along. He has to scrabble on all fours as the other man brings him to the bed and tosses him down on it. The silky smooth covers slide cooly against his skin. Blearily, he blinks up at the other man, shocked by the sudden brutality. 

But then he remembers who he is with.

Still, the drink makes him overly eager, willing to put up with anything. He reclines back, eyes lidded as he spreads his legs, showing. Offering.

The look that crosses Schmidt's eyes is unreadable, but he stares so long that Bucky feels a trickle of moisture weep from his hole to dampen the bed underneath him. The tangy scent of his musk fills the air.

Schmidt leans forward, presses a finger against that slick pucker. The brunette moans headily, entire frame shaking with need. Those fingers trace upwards over his taint, stroking softly. He's shaking so hard, Bucky feels like he's going to shatter apart.

"Please. . ." He mumbles, and Schmidt arches an eyebrow at him. The Nazi never deals in halves. "Please, Master, please fill me." Just the words are enough to make him long to drag his fingers over his abdomen, play with his nipples, bite his lip. To make an enticing show for the other man.

But Schmidt won't prefer that; only cares for complete obedience and cowering and intimidation. It isn't an act of love. It's an act of power.

"Hündin." Schmidt's voice is calm, soft, and bitterly cold. "You know what you are, yes? You are my dog. You live only to please me. You do as I say, ja? And if you disobey. . ." His fingers trace the hard metal of the cage, and Bucky's eyes widen. He's not sure if it's a threat against his manhood, or not, and he doesn't want to find out. He just nods slowly, throat going dry.

"Of course, you still need to be trained. There will always be new ways for you to please me. You must follow each and every order with no defiance. Do you understand, Hündin?"

Bucky nods again, and casts his eyes down. He'd known that war would be hell, he just never thought that he was going to be sold over to the devil.

"I will unlock you now. If you come without permission, you will be in trouble. I am sure you can understand just how important it is for you to be good?"

Shaking, his eyes fly wide. He's so pent up, there is no way he'll be able to control it. He whimpers low in his throat, and Schmidt catches it.

The look on his face is calculating, malicious. Softly, he traces those gloves up and down his thighs, his abdomen, everywhere but his cock. Already Bucky can feel his balls clenching with need.

Schmidt is going to kill him.

The lock is fiddled with, and the piece comes away from his skin, his member starting to strain and lengthen without the confines. Bucky bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, even as he can see his slit glistening with precum. The other man stares coldly down at him, a warning. Then, Schmidt's pants unzip and he's met with that perfect, undiluted smell of his alpha. Bucky's eyes start to roll back into his head, and he groans aloud. His hole starts to pulse, dripping and ready, and he can feel his balls start to clench up into his body. . .

_No no no no no no_ He tells himself, a mantra of hope that he will not burst before the other man has assuaged his needs. His cock twitches in defiance, and he breathes shallowly through his mouth. He can do this, he tells himself. He can hold out.

Schmidt leans forward, and blows softly on his erection. Bucky cries out as his orgasm comes unbidden, drawn out by nothing more than a tuft of his alpha's breath. Come splatters on his stomach, thick and sticky, and even though it was just a small release, he feels slightly better. 

Cautiously, he glances up, tension once again wracking his entire frame. Schmidt is glaring down at him, fury evident in his eyes. Quickly, he sits on the bed, grabs Bucky by the hair, and throws him over his lap. He has no ability to question the intent before the first smack against his ass. He yelps, pain blossoming through him. It feels like a full fisted punch, even though he knows it's only an open handed slap. Tears spring to his eyes, and he holds back a hiccuping sob.

The hand comes down again, and Bucky lets out a ragged breath, the stinging heat across his buttocks spreading like wildfire.

Schmidt is merciless in his treatment, peppering each cheek with brutal slaps. He even smacks against Bucky's hole and to his horror it clenches and twitches for more. 

"Spread your legs." Comes the command, and Bucky is too aroused and terrified to disobey. Another slap comes down on his perineum and the back of his balls, and he screams.

Roughly, those fingers wrap around the base of his cock, and squeeze. Bucky lets out a strangled cry. "Please, please, I'm sorry, oh God I'm sorry please stop!" He knows he's babbling, pain overwhelming. Schmidt jerks backwards, stretching him taut and painful.

"You know, you do not need this. I could very easily rid you of it." Schmidt murmurs, pressure growing. Bucky's eyes go wide. He wants to scream, wants to kick and scream, but all the fight has been snuffed out of him. With a whimper, he clenches his eyes shut, trembling over the man's lap. 

Metal encloses over his cock again, and Bucky doesn't know whether to cry at the confinement, or thank his lucky stars that he hasn't been castrated. The cage snaps shut and he heaves a silent sigh of relief.

Until the next slap comes.

Schmidt keeps spanking him until the pain starts to turn into something more, something deeper. His whole ass is on fire, angry and red, but now each slap makes his hips jerk, makes his toes curl. His nipples brush harshly against the coarse fabric of Schmidt's pants, and he can feel the trail of tears drying on his cheeks.

"Please, oh, please, pleasepleaseplease," He starts to mumble, a prayer of need uttered to a faulty god. The slaps continue until his legs are quaking and he feels as if he is going to pass out.

Suddenly, Schmidt's hand stills on his ass, fire dancing along his palm at the connection. Bucky groans again, needy.

"Who do you belong to, Hündin?" Schmidt asks.

"You, Master. Always and ever you." He replies without thinking, body at the breaking point.

"What is your purpose?"

"Anything you desire, Master." Bucky licks his lips, squirming under the contact.

"You will bear my children."

"Thank you for the great honor, Master." He replies tiredly, needing more of that touch.

"If you betray me, I will kill every single man in your unit, in the most imaginative ways possible. I will slit their throats, hang them from their entrails. I will cut off their arms and legs, test on them. Rip out their eyeballs and feed them to hogs. All of this I will make you watch. They will know just how greatly you have let them down, omega. Do you understand?"

Bucky swallows. He knows exactly what Schmidt wants to hear, even though it is something he would never wish on the 107th. "I want you, Master. You and only you. Fill me with your child. Please. I don't care about any of them. Do all of those things if you wish. My life is only meant to serve you."

Schmidt grins, visage corpse-like. "Hail HYDRA." He states, and Bucky winces, resistance building in his belly.

_Think of them. What will happen to them if you don't submit?_

"Hail HYDRA." Comes the broken whisper, as if he's sunk to the lowest of the low.

And he has.

Schmidt picks him up and lays him across the bed gently. It's an odd juxtaposition with the cold triumph in his eyes, but Bucky is far past caring. He spreads his own legs, holding them wide behind his kneecaps.

"Schön." Schmidt breathes, and then his cock pushes in.

A thousand nerves spark all throughout his being, singing of how good and right this is, to breed and be claimed. Even though his heart is sick. Even though it isn't his alpha.

But he is now, Schmidt is his alpha. 

He whines lowly as the Nazi sinks into him, feeling whole with the other man filling him. The coarse grate of Schmidt's pubic hair against Bucky's thighs is painfully delicious, and he snaps his hips up to meet each of thrusts in a frenzy.

"Gute Hündin," Schmidt rasps, for the first time his voice is dominated with lust. "Gute kleine Hure."

Bucky knows the words are derogatory, but he laps them up like spun sugar. He wants this.

The pounding becomes more fierce, each slap against his abused ass painful, but it's nothing compared to the lava spreading through his being, consuming him with desire. Despite himself, he grabs onto Schmidt's shoulders, moans spilling from his lips freely.

Then, finally, Schmidt is spurting deep inside him, coating his walls as they twitch around him. He whimpers his own need, unable to come, the fire in his belly merely stoked. The Nazi stares down at him, balls deep, and lowers enough to place a chaste kiss on his lips, cock engorging within the brunette.

It's been little over a week, but the knot feels larger, more dominating somehow.

The other man's lips trail to his neck, and suddenly, Schmidt's teeth sink in. He yelps, pain overcoming him as he can feel blood trickling down his neck. Almost immediately, an orgasm rips through his system, unbidden, making him see white.

Sounds come back first, like the rushing of the ocean's waves to the shore, then sensations. He feels raw and used, body bruised and bleeding, stretched and marked. He came without cumming.

His eyes half close. He loves it.

Schmidt smirks down at him, picks his hand up from where it has been resting on the sheets. He places it over his abdomen, and Bucky can faintly feel the outline of Schmidt's cock deep inside him. 

The thought makes his mouth water, his channel spasm.

The other man grins down at him, all ice and dominance. "Do not worry, Hündin. I will not be letting you go until you have all of my semen inside you."

With that, Schmidt starts to rock softly, and Bucky starts to moan anew.

_Yes,_ he thinks, all thoughts of anything but his alpha pushed aside. _I am yours. Breed me._

A smile slays across his own lips. A tear trickles from the corner of his eye.

_Yes, all is how it should be._ He lies to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TUMBLR!](http://ritsuko-chan.tumblr.com)
> 
> Please leave me a comment if you enjoyed this chapter. :3


	5. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, new tags added. Please check to make sure you're not squicked.
> 
> Also, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7VxvF1DkSM) is the song that Bucky sings. :3

With every step, he knows he's getting closer. Every footfall is like a little heartbeat, promising that his love is still alive.

Bucky has to be.

He's fought through hundreds of troops to get the other man back. Right now, his body is singing with excitement, with each Nazi he smacks down, with every punch thrown, it sings through his veins.

_Bucky._ Another soldier goes down.

_Bucky._ Bullets whiz past his head.

_His Bucky._

He makes his way to a basement area with a bunch of holding cells. If you wanted to be spooky, it resembled a dungeon. But American soldiers stood in the cells, grungy and weary. 

"Who the hell are you?" One asks, but Steve's too busy looking for his boyfriend. 

"A friend." He states, and the men watch in awe as he easily breaks all the locks. "We're gonna need to get outta here. There's a bunch of knocked out guys in the courtyard. Get their guns, head for the Southern wall, got it?" 

Some of the men look at each other, but none question the orders. He keeps looking but doesn't see Bucky anywhere. 

He grabs the arm of a man in passing, and the man looks down at him over his handlebar mustache. "Yeah?"

"Barnes. Sargent Barnes. Is he here?" He knows his voice is desperate, laced with worry, but he doesn't care. An emotion he doesn't understand passes over the man's face.

"They. . . they took him." The man swallows, eyes dark. "He must be up in the left wing, with Schmidt." Steve nods his thanks and starts to leave, but the man puts his hand on Steve's shoulder. "They found out he was an omega." 

The blonde's eyes go wide, and he swallows harshly. "Thanks," he murmurs, and then is off like a ghost in the dark.

~

Sometimes it's easier to just give in, tread the murky waters of forgetting all that he knew.

No one's coming for them. He knows that now. Days turned to weeks. Bucky's pretty sure that a month has passed, even though no one tells him the time, what day it is. He has to gauge it on the sun, whenever he can see it through a window.

Which isn't often.

No, his is a world of darkness now. 

Schmidt keeps him locked in his decadent little room, alone with nothing to amuse him for hours. Sometimes, he lets him come to his study, sit underneath his desk and nuzzle his leg while he works on paperwork; sometimes he guides his head to his waiting cock. He likes it best then, because Schmidt strokes his head, almost lovingly, even though the look on his face is always calculating dissent.

But then the days come where Zola leads him to the lab, washes him inside and out, and gives him more injections. He runs tests on his whole body. Sometimes, he takes the cage from his cock, and a small sticky spurt of come erupts from it. But not much.

As if only Schmidt's touch can give him his true release.

He won't give them everything, but then, they've stopped asking. By folding to the alpha, they already assume that he is theirs, willing to help destroy his country for them at one word from Schmidt.

He never will.

But there is no way to fight back. He's bound too closely to Schmidt.

The nights that he is kept in the lab, strapped down and sterile smelling, he can't help but cry. Tears for being robbed of his alpha's scent; tears because he wants it over him, wants that knot inside him. Being held close until the morning. Like normal bred couples do.

Bucky lays on the cold table after another injection, the lights low. He feels particularity distressed tonight. No one will tell him if he's conceived, although his heat has all but dissipated. It still gnaws at him, distressing and angry, as if he should be getting more. He should. A normal alpha would hold him through the night, be loving and soothing. Be excited at the prospect of their child growing inside him. But he doesn't know if there is one or not. Why else would Zola keep up with the injections, Schmidt keep fucking him, unless he wasn't with child yet?

He tries not to think about it. He tries to think about anything else.

_We'll meet again,_  
don't know where, don't know when  
but we'll meet again some sunny day 

Tears start streaming down Bucky's face, voice hitching on some of the higher notes. He shouldn't have started singing a song that reminded him of blue eyes and hair like corn silk. But he couldn't help it. He misses the nights where he rubbed the other man's back through coughing fits, where they snuggled underneath every blanket in the apartment in the winter. The times when Steve put his cold feet on him and he squealed in the middle of the night. The days the blonde brought him flowers he'd managed to pick out of the dumpster, only slightly wilted and broken. 

Broken but still beautiful.

_Keep smiling through_  
Just like you always do  
til' the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away 

He'll never get back to Brooklyn, never see that loveable punk again. Never get daisies with missing petals or lay awake listening to Steve's breathing and thank God that the worst is over. 

All he can do is sing, and cry.

And wait to be used again.

~

_So will you please say hello_  
To the folks that I know  
Tell them I won't be long 

Steve can hear the lilting words of a song coming from the end of the corridor. The voice sounds familiar, like Bucky. His heart starts to beat faster as he sprints down the hall.

_They'll be happy to know_  
That as you saw me go  
I was singing this song 

He bursts in the room, and there he is. Even strapped down and naked, he'd know Bucky Barnes anywhere.

"Buck? Bucky?" Those eyes are cloudy and unseeing, as if the other man is lost. His hand reaches out, strokes that soft cheek.

Those glazed eyes look up at him, unseeing, tears streaking down his face. Suddenly, the brunette's breath hitches, and he starts crying harder. "No, please, no, don't trick me. I'll be good, please, just don't pretend to be him!" He babbles, squirming futilely in his bonds. Steve shushes him softly, his thumb wiping those tears away.

"Bucky, it's me, it's Steve. I promise you. I've come to rescue you." He leans in, neck bared so the other man can get a whiff of his scent. Bucky's eyes widen in disbelief.

"Stevie?" He croaks, fresh tears coating his cheeks. His eyes blink into focus, shocked and hopeful as he sniffs the air. The earthy scent of the blonde pervades his senses, stronger, more dominant that before. His heart stutters.

It isn't a dream, but how?

Steve is already undoing the buckles that hold him to the table, eyes taking in all the damage that has been done to the brunette's frame. He balks, blinking back tears. "I'm gonna get you outta here, Bucky."

Gently, he helps the other man sit up, and for the first time, Bucky takes in just how much Steve has changed. The extra height, the extra muscle.

"Jesus, Steve! What happened to you?"

After releasing him, he starts looking through the cabinets. The blonde's mouth quirks up. "I joined the army."

Bucky feels there's more to it than that, but he can hear the rat-a-tat-tat of bullets outside and knows that the time to escape is now. He jumps to his feet, only to wobble. It feels alien, he hasn't been allowed to stand up for nearly a month. He looks down and realizes that he is nude.

How could he forget? At least the damn cage is off of him. What the hell would Steve think?

But apparently, there's more than enough for the blonde to take in. The blonde has found him some trousers and a baggy shirt to put on, which he gratefully takes. The rough wool garments scrape against his overly sensitive skin, making him wince in discomfort. Steve's eyes dart to his neck, covered in bite marks and bruises, and he automatically bristles. The blonde's gaze is angry and challenged.

As if Bucky can feel the scrutiny of his gaze, he scrunches his neck into his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Bucky." Steve whispers. "I should have gotten here sooner."

For a moment, it's as if the brunette doesn't comprehend the words. Then he barks a laugh. "Jesus, Stevie, How the hell could you have even known. Can we. . ." He licks his lips, fear staring to lace his voice. "Can we just get out of here?"

"Of course. C'mon Buck." He puts a gentle hand on Bucky's shoulder and helps guide him out of the room, down the hall. With each step, the brunette feels invigorated, better. With Steve at his side he almost feels like his old self, like it's the good old days and he can forget the torment he's been under during his capture.

They wind through the halls, fire and explosions forcing them through one of the warehouse areas. For some strange reason, he starts feeling a huge sense of dread that he can't explain.

Halfway across a metal walkway, Schmidt materializes, flames surrounding him like a hellish inferno. The pit falls out of Bucky's stomach, blood draining from his face.

"To whom do I owe the pleasure of ripping apart for destroying my factory?" He asks, voice full of venom. Steve just stands straighter. 

"Schmidt, I presume? I'm not impressed. If all Nazis are this sloppy the war will be over in a week." The blonde sounds as sure and defiant as he's always been, but now he has the brawn to back it up.

Schmidt's lip curls in anger, and then notices the quivering form of Bucky at the blonde's side. He reaches out, demanding. "Hündin!" He snaps. "Herkommen!"

The command slides over Bucky's skin, inky and insidious, and his whole being wants to obey. Bucky balks at the hand extended towards him, yet at the same time can feel the pull of the alpha, the need to go to him.

Like he _needs_ to go to him. 

Desperately, he grabs on to the back of Steve's jacket and looks at the floor, anywhere but at the other man. He can feel Steve tense, fully knowing that this is the alpha that has claimed his mate.

With a snarl, Steve leaps forward, fist connecting with Schmidt's face. Just when he's about to get another blow in, the walkway starts to retract, leaving both men on opposing sides of the fires below. He notices Zola standing to the side, pale faced and working the mechanism for the walkway. He sees the little rat's lips move, and Schmidt nods curtly.

Schmidt glares at Bucky, a promise of a world of hurt should they ever meet again in his red rimmed eyes. He looks furious, but there's a part of Bucky that wants to think that the other man is upset. Shuddering, he looks at the ground.

Steve's breath hitches in front of him and Bucky looks up again, confused. It's then he sees it.

The Nazi is tearing his own face off.

No. Not his own face, some kind of mask.

When it's completely off, the bile rises in Bucky's throat. There was a reason Schmidt never touched him with his hands, never took his gloves off. Always remained clothed during sex. Hell even, the strange hue of his cock should have clued him in.

An angular, crimson face glares across the gap, a skull-like visage that leers across the way and shoots daggers of ice into his heart.

He'd mated with that thing. He'd begged for his cock, given in. A strangled sound escapes his throat. He can see Steve eying him worriedly, but all he can do is look at that grim visage, mocking him from across a moat of fire.

Then, he snaps. 

"You sick piece of shit! No wonder you had to hide your disgusting mug! No one would ever willingly go for you! You're pathetic, you asshole! You fucking asshole!" Suddenly Steve's hand is on his shoulder and Bucky looks down, realizing just how close he is to the edge of the walkway. When he looks back up, there is a cold, calculating look on Schmidt's face.

"Bis später, Hündin." He calls, and turns, Zola quickly following at his heels. 

Bucky doesn't realize he's shaking until Steve squeezes his hand. "We gotta get out of here, Buck. The whole place is gonna blow."

They run, but all Bucky can see in his mind is that deformed red face, that snarl. He swallows. 

_Forget the torture._

_Forget the sex._

_Forget that he claimed you._

_He isn't who you want._

He tries to keep this mantra going in his mind, but it's half hearted. Even when they've escaped and Steve is kissing him like there's no tomorrow, his mind keeps wandering to Johann Schmidt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TUMBLR!](http://ritsuko-chan.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> If you're enjoying the story, please leave a comment! Really, they mean the world to me and are the best motivators! <3


	6. Dissonance

The camp is in an uproar when Captain America and the 107th march in. Everything's incredulous stares and shock, so many people unbelieving that the show pony wearing stars and stripes got their men back.

Then the people start cheering.

Everyone's so happy, so triumphant that it's thick on the air. Bucky wants to shrink in on himself; make himself as small as possible. Everyone will know that he's the one that managed to get them captured.

They'll want to discharge him from the army, the omega who tried to be something he wasn't.

When Steve and him had met up with the unit in the woods, the men had given him furtive glances, if any at all. He could feel shame eating at him; they'd seen what he'd become. What he allowed Schmidt to do to him. Only a handful had whispered warm, sympathetic greetings to him. Dum Dum, Gabe, Morita, Falsworth and Dernier were the only ones who'd clapped a hand on his back, said anything comforting to him. Even that's painful to stomach.

He doesn't need any sympathy. Everyone will look down on him now, everyone. He just knows it. He's living proof that omegas should be thrust back into the dark ages, that they can't be trusted in a battle.

None of it matters now. He feels hollow, like someone's scraped out his insides and there's nothing left. Even as he led them back to camp, Steve stayed ever so close to him, trying to remain professional but giving him little reassuring kisses and touches. Under the scrutiny of the men, it just made him feel worse.

All he wants is a long bath, to sink beneath the water and scrape the stench of Schmidt from him until his skin is raw and red.

He shudders. Raw and red, like the monster himself?

"Bucky," Steve asks tentatively, and the brunette stares up at him with haunted eyes. Steve can't possibly know everything that has happened to him, but he can no doubt smell the worst. He thinks he's going to be sick. "I have to go talk with Colonel Phillips for a minute. If you go to the med tent, I can meet you as soon as I'm done?"

The blood drains from Bucky's face. He can't even imagine another person putting his hands on him right now. Steve must realize as his eyes soften. "Hey, it's okay, you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to."

The instant the words leave Steve's mouth, Bucky feels ashamed, like he's acting truly submissive. These are people he's been working with for months; he shouldn't feel uncomfortable. He shouldn't be afraid of them. "It's fine," He states, a little more curtly than he means to. Even as he turns away, he knows Steve's face is falling.

It's strange enough that the blonde has grown into some muscled Adonis, but now everyone looks up to him like he's a chiseled, perfect alpha statue that has come to life.

Everything Bucky will never be.

He shouldn't be upset. But there's an unease that keeps gripping his heart, a feeling of pure dread deep down inside.

Steve had kissed him, a long time everything considered. But Bucky wasn't even sure if he'd felt anything. It was soft, sweet, happy.

He'd grown used to dominance, bruising pain and gasping for air under an attack of lips and teeth. That wasn't Stevie, it never had been. 

Just the thought of a rare kiss from Schmidt was getting him hot and bothered.

Quickly, he located the med tent by the red cross on the flap and ducked in. Several of his men were in there, being treated for minor injuries. One of the medics stepped forward.

"How can I-"

"Suppressants. I need omega grade suppressants. Immediately." He grits out lowly, but regardless, everyone in the tent hears. Flushing hotly, he allows the young medic to hand him a bottle of pills, which he grabs before storming out. He can still feel all of their eyes watching his back as he goes.

The air is cold, but it feels good on his flushed skin. He walks until he can't hear the hustle and bustle of the troops, until he finds a place quiet and peaceful enough to let him work through his own thoughts. With a sigh, he sinks onto a moss covered log. Just being outdoors is almost overwhelming. Shakily, he opens the bottle, popping two small pills into the palm of his hand. He grimaces. For something so small, they leave such a giant impact on him. He swallows them dry, willing them to work immediately.

Nothing has felt normal since the rescue, as if he's walking through a dream, and he's going to wake up any minute with Schmidt over him.

Shakily, he puts his hand over the bite-mark on his neck. Would it be better that way? It throbs dully, reminds him of all the times the alpha sank his teeth into his neck. How each submission became easier and easier.

He closes his eyes angrily. How could he even think that anything would be better in the presence of that scumbag?

"Do you mind if I join you?" 

Bucky's head whips up at the soft female voice. He hasn't heard a woman's voice in so long that it's almost eerie. And yet, standing in front of him like a dream is a beautiful young woman in dress uniform. Misery forgotten for a moment, he nods dumbly.

"I'm Agent Carter." The auburn haired woman sits next to him on the log, and he catches the rich, non-threatening scent of a beta waft off of her like summer flowers. "Would you like to talk about anything?" Her voice has a rich English accent, and for a moment, Bucky is jealous of the amount of poise she has, especially when he feels like he is going to shatter apart.

"No, not really." He mumbles, staring at the snow covered ground. The last thing he needs is to talk to some beta dame about what had happened to him.

"Really, there's no need to be like that. You've been through quite the ordeal, considering the talk going around camp."

Her words hit like a slap in the face, although they didn't seem to be malicious. Angrily, he barks out a laugh. "And what talk is that, exactly?"

"I think you misunderstand, Sergeant Barnes." She speaks, voice clipped and commanding. "I'm not here to judge you, or what has happened to you. You have been through a very difficult ordeal. At the same time, you are not going to be pitied. If you cannot handle the army any longer, you needn't stay."

Slowly, Bucky's gaze rises, incredulous. His mouth feels tacky, tongue glued in place as his eyes meet hers. There isn't a trace of pity there, or disgust. He isn't sure what he had thought he would see in her eyes, but it's not the calm, open demeanor that the woman is exuding.

"You think I can't handle my men?" He croaks, cursing how weak he sounds. It seems that she pays it no mind. 

"That isn't what I said. But do you think you can?"

Bucky closes his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose. All the eyes of his men had been on him. Watching him give in.

Watching him grovel and suck cock and drink piss.

Watching him submit.

When he opens his eyes, he realizes that his hands are fisted on his knees, bloodless and clenching the fabric. Trousers that had belonged to some HYDRA  
scum.

He licks his lips, flexing his fingers. "There's only two things I'm gonna need. A bath, and a uniform. I know one's easier than the other-" 

"We will be falling back to our tactical base in London, thanks to this victory. You can clean up there. As for the uniform, I am sure I can find you something much better." She offers him a soft smile. Reflexively, his mouth turns up, but there is no happiness there. "If you'll excuse me, then."

She walks away, pine needles crunching underfoot. He watches her go, a chill running up his spine.

Agent Carter is astoundingly beautiful. Thinking back on it, for a moment, she had some sort of exchange with Steve, talking lowly with one another, smiling. Flirting?

Bucky cradles his head in his hands, willing his mind to catch up with what's happening.

To stop wondering when the next time he will see Schmidt might be. The thought makes his blood run cold.

At least he doesn't feel hot anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TUMBLR!](http://ritsuko-chan.tumblr.com)


	7. Inadequate

_He's snug, securely tied up. Schmidt has made sure of that. Legs splayed outwards and back, his reddened ass screaming for attention. His arms are tied painfully above his head, boneless after hours of being bound. Rope digs into his legs, his wrists. He wants to be let down so badly._

_He keeps casting furtive glances at Schmidt, but the other man pays him no attention. The alpha continues to savor his drink and read. It's as if Bucky is just a piece of art, something to spruce up the room a bit, not actually anyone or anything of consequence._

_It's a game, it's always a game. Bucky lets out a frustrated moan. The gag in his mouth muffles the sound, and the only reaction he receives is Schmidt taking another drink of his schnapps._

_Nevertheless, Bucky is getting more and more frustrated, twitching in his bonds. The maddening scent of his alpha coats the room, coats everything but him. He can feel his hole clenching with need, slicking itself with a readiness that Schmidt will not take him up on. Wriggling again, he makes another plaintive moan._

_This time, Schmidt looks up, disgust written plainly on his features._

_Bucky knows he should stop, not tempt fate, but he's so aroused. He needs to be fucked now. He glares defiantly at the other man, willing him to come over._

_The book hurtles at his head faster than he would have anticipated, and he barely has time to close his eyes as a corner smacks him to close to an eye. Whimpering, he cracks them open again to see the alpha looming over him, rage practically crackling off of him._

_"You want attention?" He snarls. It's then Bucky sees the riding crop in his hand. Fearfully, he shakes his head no, knowing he's overstepped his bounds._

_The first smack comes regardless, rocking him back in his restraints as a stripe of pain blossoms against his ass. The crop crashes down, again and again, until Bucky is a sobbing mess, drool making the gag thick in his mouth._

_That crop slides up his cock, which he hadn't realized had gotten hard under the brutal affections. He whimpers again as that bit of leather rubs against his glans._

_He's not sure when it happened, but the human face of Schmidt's has melted off, leaving only the grim, horrifying visage of the Red Skull. No wonder he had been called that. The man is fully undressed, red raw body like a nightmare. His cock juts proudly, every fiber of him reeks of dominant male._

_Bucky wants him so bad, but not how he's going to get him._

_Wild eyed, he tries to struggle out of his bonds, but it's no use, Schmidt is slamming that length into his hole, ripping into him. His own body could never be ready for the thorough claiming that the other man means to do. He shrieks behind the gag, bloody stars on the edge of his vision._

_Not like this, God, not like this._

_That skeletal face leers down at him, each thrust casting hideous shadows across his face. "You are mine. Forever."_

_Something wet slides down his crack, the tang of blood on the air. His cries are ignored, body shaking in his bonds as the monster slams in again, and again, and again. . ._

"Bucky! Buck, wake up!" 

_The voice sounds frightened, and slightly desperate. It doesn't match anything around him. Slowly, the Red Skull starts to fade away. . ._

. . . into worried blue eyes and a soft smile. Bucky blinks, hardly believing that what had just happened had been a dream. Looking around, he sees the rest of the plane that they are in, currently flying back to England. There are a bunch of eyes upon him, and immediately he shrinks back against the seat. The plane itself is pitching around with fierce turbulence. He wonders if that could account for the nightmare. 

Still, Steve's kneeling in front of him, a worried look on his face. They hadn't much of a chance to talk since the blonde had debriefed back at the camp, Gabe had come to get him a couple of hours after he had wandered into the woods. Apologetic, he had cleared his throat, interrupting Bucky from his dark thoughts, and told him the transits were ready. He'd also brought him a spare uniform.. 

After changing he'd jumped in one with Gabe and Dum Dum, thankfully most of the men in the 'Deuce and a Half' were men that hadn't shunned him upon seeing him again.

But there was no Steve. He stared dully at the ground as the men chattered around him, excited for home cooked meals and liquor and even dancing. The truck started its journey down the worn dirt road, and with each yard that passed, the men's anticipation grew.

Bucky couldn't feel the excitement, Carter's words hanging around his neck like a noose. Would be be dismissed from service?

And where was Steve? In some other truck, getting chummy with her and the higher ups?

Almost immediately after the thought, the back of the truck dipped under the sudden weight of something, back curtain opening. Steve Rogers grinned widely, climbing over the tailgate to the shock of the men. Sweat was tacky on the back of his hair, but the blonde wasn't even out of breath. 

"Sorry," He breathed, eyes twinkling down at Bucky. "Meeting ran long. Didn't mean to fall behind."

Dum Dum had scooted over to give Steve a place to sit, and he'd sat next to him, hard line of his body against his. It felt warm, and reassuring. Still, Bucky stayed straight and kept his eyes focused on the floor. The last thing he needed was for the men to think him weak for putting his head on Steve's shoulder.

Although, he was finding more and more, that he wanted to. 

The ride had been uneventful, all of the companionable talk turning into excitement as they arrived at the airfield, the Douglas Skytrain gleaming in the light of the setting sun. They'd boarded, settled in for the ride, and let the relief of being able to leave the war zone, if only for a little bit, wash over them.

He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep.

"Are you okay Bucky?" Steve asks softly, eyes full of concern. For a moment, his fingers twitch, wanting to pull the other man close to him. But this isn't the time or the place, especially not when there are men at the far end of the cargo hold eyeing him and muttering between themselves. Steve casts them a dark look, and they shut up, but it only proves to the brunette just how little his men must think of him now.

If they ever thought highly of an omega sergeant to begin with. 

Gritting his teeth, he leans his head back against the cool metal of the plane and mumbles out a "Fine." He can still feel those worried baby blues on him, and he wants to feel anything. Anger, shame, useless. But nothing comes.

Reaching in his pocket he pulls out the suppressants. There's no telling how many hours have passed, but his skin is flushed and he has a headache so it only seems natural to take them. The blonde sits next to him again, as he pops two pills into his mouth. A canteen comes into his vision, Steve's plush lips in a smile behind it. Gladly, he takes a drink, water cooling his throat. He's drank half of it before he realizes he has, before apologetically passing the canteen back to Steve. The other man just smiles and takes a drink, savoring it. His lips on the bottle make something in Bucky's chest twist, their indirect kiss nothing like the one that he suddenly wants to give the blonde. For saving him. For saving the men. For being so kind and requesting nothing from him. For being here, real and flesh and blood.

But that's Steve, it always has been. Never before has he ever met a more selfless person, or a more stubborn jackass. It's part of what makes him love the other man. He wants to reach out and touch that perfect face, have Steve whisper that everything will be all right.

Bucky exhales slowly. Not here. He can't jeopardize how everyone feels about him anymore than Schmidt already has.

They ride in a companionable silence for awhile, until the telltale slope of the plane starts to mark the beginning of a descent. Bucky swallows harshly, landing always makes him feel like his lunch is going to come up.

Thankfully it stays down. The boys file off when the plane has come to a complete stop, but Steve's hand on the back of his jacket stills him. 

"I have to go to another meeting, okay?" He says, eyes full of concern, as if there is nothing that he'd rather do than stay by his side.

Bucky looks away. Steve's so damn important now, and he's just. . . an omega. "It's no big deal, you do what you gotta do." He says nonchalantly, but there's an edge of pain in his voice.

The blonde catches, it, hand moving soothingly to the small of his back. "Yeah, but I just thought that we-"

Another soldier pops his head into the opening. "Captain Rogers, sir, everyone is waiting for you."

Steve sighs and smiles apologetically at Bucky. "I heard there's a pub close by everyone's going to. I'll meet you there afterwards?"

Internally, Bucky screams, just what he wants, to be surrounded by all the peers that consider him disgusting. Still he gives Steve a weak smile. "Sure thing, Stevie."

He watches him walk away, that new form so different than the Stevie he knew. It was still his blue eyes, soft smile, blonde hair, just bigger. Healthier. It was more than he could have ever wanted for him. He notices as those broad shoulders get farther from him, the looks from dames and omegas alike, the hustle and bustle of the city steps back a bit to make room for a man that before this serum business would have never looked twice.

People more deserving of Captain America than an omega slut that gave into Nazi command for a little cock.

He hunches his shoulders, trying to pass off as unnoticeable. First, he's gonna book a room. Take a bath. Brush his teeth. 

Then he's going to drink, until all the confusion surrounding him fades into a dull ache.

At least then it will be bearable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TUMBLR!](http://ritsuko-chan.tumblr.com)
> 
> Hey all, sorry so long on the update; I've been pretty sick lately in and out of the doctor's office. Gonna try real hard to have another chapter up this week. I hope you all are loving the story. If so, please feed me comments! I adore each and everyone, and they really keep me on track to write more! :)


	8. Drunk

Four bourbons later, and Bucky has to admit, that much alcohol probably hasn't been a good idea. Sure, he's eaten a whole order of fish and chips, steamed vegetables, and three slices of blueberry pie, but the last month he's not been fed properly, or on any sort of a schedule that makes sense. The bar is blurry and it's all he can do to keep a face straight enough to ask for another.

The burn of the liquor takes the edge off of his misery, makes him feels lighter as if everything had been a horrible dream. That's the beauty of being drunk, forgetting all your problems. Bleary eyed, he downs the rest of the amber liquid and signals the barkeep for another. The man looks dubiously at him, but relents.

He can hear the men talking and singing in the other room. He hadn't had the heart or the guts to sit with them and celebrate, pretend that they were all equal. Because they aren't. Bucky sighs, the fire of the bourbon coursing through his being.

_-like being claimed, Schmidt's cock filling him, stretched taut and full of spunk. So many nights he'd come over and over, stretching his belly with his come to the point that he almost looked pregnant with the alpha's child-_

The vision is so vivid that Bucky almost feels like he's going to be sick, red rimmed eyes too dry to cry anymore. He'd made sure to exhaust himself on that level in the bathtub earlier. 

The adjacent room erupts in clapping and cheering, and Bucky knows that can only mean one thing: the man of the hour's back.

Steve walks through the door, and it's still as shocking as the first time he'd seen him. Gone is that thin little punk that used to start fights and looked like a good gust of wind could knock him over. Steve stands proudly, confident and sharp in his uniform. 

That perfect grin lights on him, and even through the haze of liquor he's consumed, he can still see the boy he fell in love with so long ago.

"Well, they're staying on."

"They're all idiots." Bucky snarks, before taking another drink. But he doesn't think they are. He's envious, wondering if he's going to be included or shipped home. Based on the way that he'd caught Colonel Phillips eyeballing him back at camp, it didn't look good.

"Well, what about you?" Steve smiles, sitting on the bar stool next to him, smelling of sweet vanilla and mint. Bucky missed this. "You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?"

"Hell no." He wrinkles his nose, and Steve gives him a slightly shocked look before he continues. "That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. . . I'm following him."

He takes another drink, and can see Steve out of the corner of his eye starting to blush, pleased by the answer. How could the blonde ever consider that Bucky wouldn't follow him?

"You're keeping the outfit, right?" He asks, teasing. The booze flooding his veins makes everything easier, talk less stilted. He almost feels normal again. 

"You know, it's kind of growing on me." Steve teases right on back, blue eyes catching his own. He knows that look in the other man's eyes, knows that any second Steve will close the gap between them and kiss him for all he's worth.

He's elated. And terrified.

But then Steve's rising, looking over his shoulder, and Bucky turns to follow suit. His heart drops at what he sees.

Agent Carter stands in the doorway, a vision in red with her beautiful hair curled and framing her face. He can almost feel Steve's heartbeat stutter as he looks at her. A glance out of the corner of his eye proves that Steve can't help but stare at the woman in front of him.

"Captain." Her eyes are fixed only on Steve, attraction evident.

"Agent Carter."

She steps forward, and Bucky feels the hairs on the back of his neck raise. Before he can stop himself, he looks her up and down, and she catches the look, smiling tersely at him.

"Ma'am." He drawls, liquor making his response sluggish. She walks past him to stand directly in front of Steve. The air is thick with tension.

"Howard has some equipment for you to try tomorrow morning." She says, not an order, but it might as well be. Steve smiles and nods slightly, completely enraptured. After all, girls never gave him the time of day before the serum. But then, Steve hadn't cared. At least, Bucky thinks he didn't.

"Sounds good." Steve says softly.

There's an awkward silence that starts to drag, and Bucky keeps flicking his eyes over to the alpha, a tight smile on his lips. He feels uncomfortable, like a third wheel. After a moment, she looks away, out into the other room after a considerably raucous laugh.

"I see your top squad is prepping for duty."

Bucky almost snorts at how prissy she sounds. "You don't like music?" He asks, hoping that the words don't sound as slurred out loud as they do in his mind.

"I do, actually." She answers him, but only looks at Steve, gazing deep into his eyes. The blonde is trapped. "I might even, when this is all over, go dancing."

Bucky feels the need to try and stand his ground, after all, isn't Steve his? "Then what are we waiting for?"

"The right partner." It's evident they're not talking about dancing anymore. It's very clear that Peggy Carter has an interest in Steve, and honestly, who wouldn't? Bucky can't muster up the words to call her on it. Not after what has happened. Not with everyone knowing what he's done.

"0800, Captain." She repeats firmly, turning on her heel.

"Yes ma'am, I'll be there." Steve answers. Before he knows it, she's gone again, disappearing back into the night. Bucky turns back and nurses his drink. There's a bit of silence as Bucky contemplates if Steve really even wants him anymore. With girls like that following you around, who would want a guy like Bucky?

"What's the matter, Buck?" Steve asks softly, catching his foul mood instantly. Bucky just sighs and shakes his head.

"Dame treats me like I'm invisible. Just some stupid omega bringing everyone down." He mutters, and Steve's eyes widen.

"You got it all wrong, Bucky, she just wants what's best for you." Steve's finger's are suddenly on his cheek, stroking softly. He still feels fuzzy, like the contact isn't there, only a soft pressure on his flesh. "That's what I want too."

His eyes flash up. "Then don't you let anyone make me go home! You got me?" Even Bucky realizes he's slurring, but he's too far gone to care. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at him, concerned. "Are you okay Bucky?" 

The brunette chuckles and raises the rim of the cup to his lips, but like magic, the glass is suddenly gone from his hand, and Steve is pushing it back across the bar to the bartender. He blinks hard, apparently more off his game than he thought. Bucky is about to protest when Steve leans in close, lips brushing his ear.

"I think we need to get you to bed, soldier." He murmurs, and the brunette can feel the heat emanating off of that voice. It causes a shudder to rip through him, pleased to be gathering the full attention of the alpha.

He chuckles, rising to his feet, before the room spins. Suddenly, he's in Steve's arms, flush against his chest. It's an odd feeling. Steve's never been taller than him, more muscular, so dominant. Bucky swallows a lump in his throat, especially when he brushes up against the semi in Steve's pants. The blonde looks in his eyes, a promise of things to come, of nights they've missed.

Bucky knows he's beet red, but he allows the other man to lead him from the bar. The Howling Commandos wish them a good night with a few more winks than he would have liked, but he's so drunk right now he doesn't even care. As soon as they're outside in the brisk London air, Bucky reaches up and pulls the other man down for a kiss. He knows it's sloppy, that he reeks of alcohol and the last traces of another alpha, but he doesn't care. He needs this terribly.

The kiss is more demanding than the kisses of old, but still soft and gentle enough to remind him that it is indeed his Steve. Whereas he thought he'd cried his last tears, his vision starts to get a little misty.

Steve pulls away, and leans his forehead down on Bucky's own, blue eyes glistening with love. "I missed you so much, Buck. Thought about you every day. Couldn't wait to see you again. Wondered what you'd think when you saw me like this." He murmured, voice thick with emotion. Bucky's heart skips a beat, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wants to say so much, to tell him how scared he was and how much he missed him, but he can't. Instead, he nods, head lolling slightly. Steve chuckles. "Lets get you inside. You need to sober up a little, Buck."

They make their way down the street, Steve guiding him to keep him from weaving into the street. He's probably drank way too much, but he's beyond caring, tucked in warm and safe in the crook of Steve's arm.

As they make their way into the hotel and climb the stairs, he's reminded of a time when other alphas had bullied Steve, bet him he couldn't hold his liquor. The blonde had drank all of them under the table, and by the time that Bucky had gotten there was barely coherent. He'd half dragged the other man home, Steve being too stubborn to let him just carry him. Only a couple hours later, he'd stroked back his bangs and whispered soothing words to him as he retched in the toilet.

He hopes it won't come to that now. He doesn't feel like he's gonna puke, all things considered. Just warm and fuzzy and complacent.

As soon as they're in the door, Steve kissing him, and Bucky practically melts against him. It's so warm, so sweet, it makes him feel like he's eating cotton candy at Coney Island. The room's even spinning like a merry go round, faster and faster. . .

Steve stops and chuckles softly. "You need some water." Before Bucky can complain, he's led to the bed, and gently pushed down. Bucky sinks into the mattress, watching Steve's back as he disappears through the bathroom door.

He can hear running water as he absentmindedly runs his fingers over the coarse duvet. There are snags in the material, the scent of another alpha and omega on it despite washing, evidencing its definite use. Bucky grins lopsidedly.

Something they'll be doing soon.

"What are you smiling about?" Steve teases, a cup of water in hand. Gratefully, he takes it, downing half of the contents before handing it back.

"Nothing. You." Bucky purrs, voice thick with unspoken promises. He grabs the other man's wrist and pulls him closer to the bed. Steve raises an eyebrow. 

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Buck?" He asks with no small amount of concern. "I mean, if you want to wait. . ."

He can tell that there's a great amount of restraint on Steve's part. Of course there would be. This is the first time in nearly a year that they'll actually be able to have sex, to be together as they used to. He misses the feel of being knotted, and held, of feeling safe and warm. He wants hat soft vanilla and mint musk coating him once again.

There's nothing he wants more. 

The alcohol spurs him to pull the other man into a searing kiss. Steve's tongue is warm and slick against his his own, the familiar taste making his body respond. Grinning lopsidedly, he pulls his shirt up, breaking the kiss only to get it over his head. Steve does the same, and Bucky lets out a low whistle when he sees the other man's torso. A slight flush and an 'aw, shucks' look cross Steve features, but Bucky can tell he's proud of the serum and what it has done for him.

Tenderly, Steve lays him back against the bed. His hands trace over Bucky's waistband, to the front of his pants and he gives him a soft squeeze through the fabric. Bucky groans, and almost immediately Steve pulls the brunette's pants off, tossing them to the floor.

He drops his own, and the whistle Bucky had let out before was nothing compared to the moan of anticipation he lets out now. Steve is larger, thicker than he remembers. Licking his lips, he gazes up at the other man through heavy lidded eyes. "C'mere." He slurs, and Steve complies, settling between his legs.

Steve experimentally pushes a finger into him, only to find Bucky already slick with desire. Still, he curls his finger against that sweet spot deep inside, and the brunette's toes curl, pleasure pooling in his belly. His cock juts up, the first time in nearly a month that it's even been un-bound during sex. He moans, hips rocking against the blonde's ministrations.

"Ugh, Stevie, c'mon, let's just do it." He mumbles, feeling like his mouth is full of marbles. He doesn't want tenderness and slow going, he needs it hard and fast, like a drowning man gasping for air.

But Steve just keeps pushing that digit languidly in and out of him, the heat in his belly pooling into an maddening fire. Steve dips his head in, and takes the tip of his cock into his mouth.

Bucky comes immediately, crying out at the force of his orgasm. After weeks of not being touched there, of not being allowed to come, it's inevitable. The blonde just holds his mouth on him, drinking up his essence, blue eyes blazing. Even when he is finished coming, he is still half hard, and Steve continues to work his way down his cock, lovingly licking and sucking along his length. The sensation feels like fireworks across his overly sensitive skin. The blonde's fingers also contingue to slick in and out of him, until Bucky is a begging mess.

"C'mon, you punk, stop teasing and fuck me!" He whines, and Steve flashes him a lusty grin, mouth still full of his cock. It's so erotic Bucky almost comes again.

But he doesn't want to, not until Steve is in him.

Steve finally eases up, his cock slipping from his lips with a slick pop, and he settles between Bucky's legs. The brunette groans at the sight if the alpha's cock. Despite being sickly, Steve had never been all that small in that department, but now his cock juts thick and proud from his pelvis. Bucky groans at the sight, the thought that it will soon be in him.

"I've been waiting so long for this, Buck." Steve breathes, voice low. "The thought to be in you, to love you like a real alpha should."

"Steve. . ." His breath hitches. The blonde had always been who he'd wanted, sickly or not. The thought that the other man still felt inadequacy over their past lovemaking hurt. Raising his hands, he held Steve's face between them, gaze full of desire. "You always loved me like a real alpha should."

The blonde's face is full of pride, full of love for him. Leaning down, he places a trail of chaste kisses along his neck, and Bucky arches up into the touches, Steve's scent strong around him. He still feels fuzzy, but in a good way. The edge of his nerves has been ground off, replaced by warm desire. He wraps his arms around Steve's neck, pulling him closer.

Yes. This is what he wants.

That beautiful cock is pressing against his entrance, and then gently, the other man starts to rock his hips forward into his sweet heat. He pushes in, agonizingly slow, and Bucky finds himself digging his fingernails into the alpha's back. Steve feels huge and hard and thick and wonderful, and each inch by delicious inch is being greedily swallowed into his body. 

It's just as sweet and gentle as the times they shared before, just two Brooklyn boys melting together since Bucky started getting the cravings; the precursors to a full heat. There hadn't been a part on each other that they hadn't licked, kissed, fondled or explored. Even when Steve was ill he did everything in his power to pleasure the omega. Steve's scent thick in his nostrils, giddy laughter and hushed whispers. He can never forget that.

Without even realizing it, Steve is buried to the hilt inside of him. The stretch doesn't burn, doesn't hurt. It's so gentle that he almost can't take the desire filling his belly.

Steve's hand seeks out his erection and pumps it firmly. Bucky cants his hips up into the tough, his flesh twitching around the length inside him. The blonde's other hand is warm against his hipbone as he languidly pumps him, causing tremors to start quaking through his hips.

"Stevie, fuck, please!" He begs, voice high pitched and yearning. The blonde rolls his hips, and the head of his cock drags against his sweet spot as he drags it out of him, and plunges back in. With each thrust, the fuzziness in Bucky's brain burns a little purer. He snaps his hips to meet each thrust, moaning lowly. It's so fucking good.

Steve leans down to nibble on his neck, over the place that just days before, Schmidt had been sinking his teeth into.

Suddenly, the homey smell of vanilla and mint, and hot Brooklyn nights is wrong. There's something at the back of his mind, screaming.

It should be cigars and liquor, pine needles and sulfur. 

It should be Schmidt.

Bucky cries out, and it's not a good sound; all strangled and pain filled. Immediately, Steve stops, sweat beaded on his forehead and blue eyes full of concern. "Bucky, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"Off." Bucky whispers, body shaking in horror. Steve pulls out of him, and sits back, distress evident on his face. 

"I'm sorry, what did I-"

"No." The brunette states coolly, eyes far away and clouded. How could he have thought such a thing? That it should be Schmidt? Because it really, really shouldn't.

He's with the only man he's been in love with since he was fifteen.

Even so, his body rebels, and his stomach turns. There's only a split second before he's racing from the bed to the toilet, and emptying the contents of his stomach. Steve is right behind him, a soothing hand on his back.

A reverse of the way things used to be.

"Bucky, I think you just had too much to drink. I'll get you some water, and some aspirin, and you'll feel much better in the morning."

The brunette stares dully at the contents of his stomach now in the toilet bowl and doesn't know what to say. How can he even tell Steve?

"I. . ." he rasps, and Steve smooths a hand over his forehead. Again, he feels panicked, like everything is all wrong. The touches are too gentle, the tone too soft.

He should be following orders.

He should be on his hands and knees, or bound in the most humiliating ways. Tied up. Roughed up.

There should be pain.

"Hey, it's okay," Steve soothes. But Bucky doesn't want to be soothed, doesn't want kind words or soft hands. 

He wants his alpha.

_Steve is your alpha!_ He corrects himself in his mind firmly, but somewhere, deep down, he doesn't know if he can believe that any more.

The blonde gives him a cup of water to rinse his mouth out, then fills it again for him to drink. It almost hurts going down, flooding his abused system with cold. That's all he feels. Cold. Not the warmth and love that he felt so long ago; it's like his body is rebelling against the bond they once shared.

He lets Steve pull him to his feet, and bring him back to the bed. Gently, he tucks him back into the itchy sheets, and throws on his pants and jacket.

"I'm gonna go get you that medicine, Bucky. Just try to rest, okay?" His voice is worried, but Bucky just wishes for quiet. One curt nod and the blonde is off like a shot.

The bed smells like the both of them, like the lovemaking they'd almost succeeded in. He's glad that neither had come; he doesn't know if he could handle the smell right now. His face blanches.

Bucky couldn't even handle being knotted.

Schmidt rarely ever did that to him, so it's not like it's something that he deserves. He exhales sharply through his nose. No, he doesn't deserve that at all. 

Despite how cold he feels, he throws the blanket off to look down his body. He can see the outline of some of his ribs against the taut flesh of his chest, reddened knees from being forced to walk on all fours. 

Even his cock doesn't seem to know what it wants; it's half hard from Steve's ministrations, but softening from the smell around him. He bites his lip in frustration. He's not good enough for Steve. How could he even think about Schmidt? His heart starts to race. For a moment, he hates his body, hates his mind, hates his cock, wishes there was some way-

But there is. 

He doesn't deserve to get hard, to feel pleasure. Schmidt was right about that. Slowly his hand snakes down to his abdomen, fingers twitching. They close around his cock at the base and a small whimper escapes from his throat. It's not the same, but he doesn't care. He fists his hand, squeezing harder and harder until the feeling is some minor facsimile of the cage that he had grown so used to wearing. He keeps squeezing, gritting his teeth through the pain. But there is some form of calm through this action, he feels lighter somehow.

He doesn't deserve pleasure. He failed his men, failed Steve, failed his country. He doesn't deserve happiness. Maybe he should just tell the blonde to go get with Carter, they seemed to have some sort of mutual attraction. They'd definitely make a prettier pair.

Steve deserves someone who doesn't have darkness in his guts.

His fist clenches so tight he sees stars, and he gasps. 

_Yes. That's the feeling. You're so worthless, Hündin. . ._

The door opens quickly, and he barely registers Steve striding through the door before he stops in his tracks, jaw dropping and confusion on his face. "Bucky, what the hell are you doing?"

Bucky looks down the line of his body to where his cock is smashed in his grip, turning a spectacular shade of purplish red. Why had he kicked the covers off?

"I. . . uh," The words start to stick in his throat. "I mean-"

"Let go!" Steve takes the last few steps to the bed, flushed with horror. "Stop hurting yourself right now!"

He wants to rebel, just keep squeezing until he doesn't feel anything anymore, but shame relaxes his hand, and it falls loosely to his side.

Steve grabs him by the shoulders trying to look him in the eye, but Bucky can't meet his gaze. He just can't. "Why were you doing that? Why were you hurting yourself?"

Even more shame wells up within him, and he swallows it down. This is what he is. Steve just won't understand. 

"Bucky, answer me, dammit!" Steve chokes out, seething and overwhelmed by this course of actions.

_Of course he's disgusted by you. You let Schmidt fuck you. You're a terrible omega._

There is silence and finally Steve sits back, hands dropping uselessly on his lap. "Bucky. . . please. I'm worried about you."

"I'm just tired." He manages to mumble, but Steve grimaces at him.

"You don't have to lie to me." Steve cries out, frustration evident in his tone.

"I'm not lying." But he is. How could he ever own up to the things his body is telling him it wants?

"Buck," Steve swallows, licking his lips nervously. "Are you. . . do you not want to be with me anymore?"

Shocked, Bucky's face shoots up that Steve would come to that conclusion. "Why would you even think that?"

"You just. . .do you not like me like this? Or is it because. . . there's someone else you'd rather be with?" Steve's trying to sound neutral, but the despair in his voice is evident.

Bucky goes white. That's not what he feels at all. Or is it? But staring into the depths of Steve's bottomless blue eyes, he doesn't know anymore. Nothing scares him more. "Stevie. . ." He croaks, but can't bear to say another word. He can't even begin to go about explaining the horrors he's been through. How could Steve ever understand? He'd only ever been gentle and loving to him, so the thought that he could gain such pleasure out of pain was abominable.

Steve's eyes start to water, and he looks away. "I'm sorry Bucky. I shouldn't have pushed you. I just. . . I missed you so much."

_Me too, Steve, God, me too._

Rising from the bed, Steve makes his way towards the door. A lump rises in Bucky's throat. He doesn't want him to go. 

"I'll come back in the morning, okay? You'll probably feel better then." His hand is on the doorknob, and it's like Bucky's back at the Stark Expo, parting from him for the last time before the war.

His fingers clench the sheets underneath him. He can hear the tumblers in the door turning, and this time, it's going to be Steve walking out of his life.

"Stop." He murmurs, and to his surprise, the other man catches it. The blonde pauses in the doorway, framed like a beautiful picture. Calmly, he turns and closes the door. Leans against it.

"I. . . Stevie. . ." He doesn't know how he can say it. That even now, his body craves that harshness, that pain. That he wants it. Or does he? He just doesn't even know anymore, with how much Schmidt fucked with his head. He finally finds the courage to muster up the words.

"I wasn't faithful to you."

They're such an understatement, but it's all he can get out. Steve shakes his head, starts walking back to his bedside.

"No, no Bucky, that's not what happened. I know it's not."

"We had sex-"

Steve stops him. "I know."

"He kept pushing, and I wanted it-"

"No you didn't." The blonde interjects firmly.

"But I did. He made me want it. He made me beg-" He knows he's babbling now, voice laced with panic and shame.

"Bucky."

He explodes, unable to suppress the emotion building up inside. "Will you fucking listen to me Steve?! He fucked me and he knotted me and made me beg for more!" Tears are slipping down his cheeks and he's so angry at himself. For being weak, for giving in. He tied me up and humiliated me and dammit, I loved it." He sobs out. 

The muscle in the side of Steve's jaw is twitching, tense and angry. "No Bucky, you didn't. I don't believe that." He reaches out, hand coming towards his face and despite himself, Bucky shirks away. Steve doesn't stop though, not until his arms are wrapped around his shaking form, strong and sure. Bucky feels like he's going to shatter apart.

"Please, Stevie, don't." He groans, face falling until its pressed up against Steve's uniform shirt. He's going to stain it with tears, but the other man does not let him go.

"I love you, Bucky. You're my mate. You're the only one I want to be with. Forever." He murmurs, fingers carding through his hair softly.

But Bucky can't shake the feeling of everything that he has done that has been so wrong. "You deserve better."

"I have the best there is, Buck. I have you." Steve sounds so sincere, but it just makes Bucky feel like even more of a heel, that he actually gave in.

"But. . I cheated."

"You did not cheat. He forced you Bucky. Do you think I couldn't smell it all over you when I found you?" The admission only makes Bucky feel sicker, more loathsome of himself. Steve won't have any of it, stroking the back of his fingers against his cheek. "Just please. I love you. I'm not going to judge you. I'm sorry I pushed you too fast."

"You didn't." At least, he thinks Steve didn't. Hell, he'd been the one to say that they should slow down. 

"I just want what's best for you Bucky, even if that means distance." The blonde's hand drops again, face carefully neutral. "Do you want me to leave?"

The thought of Steve walking out the door is way too much for him, the thought of being left alone in another room, no matter how long is oppressive. "No, please stay. I'm sorry." His voice sounds so small that he almost can't believe it's his own.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Bucky. Just forget about those things. I'm here now." Steve climbs into the bed with him, careful not to touch him. He pulls the covers back up and over them. "I'm never leaving you, jerk. Until you don't want me anymore. You know I'm with you to the end of the line."

Bucky laughs, but it catches in his throat, pained and bitter. "I'll never not want you. I just. . . right now. . ." A new flood of tears start to dribble down his cheeks. 

Warm arms tentatively wrap around him. "Shhh. . . it's okay Buck. You don't have to say anything else."

Steve holds him through the night, stroking his hair as he sobs. The only reason he can't push the other man away is at least in Steve's arms, he feels tied up, forced to be still, even though he's sure that Steve would never want him to feel that way at all. 

Bucky can't deny it. He's broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TUMBLR!
> 
> Sorry for all the back and forth. Bucky getting drunk kind of messed with his inner senses. :p
> 
> Also, no hate on Peggy; I wasn't trying to make her come across as bitchy or anything. I just wanted to make sure it was evident that Bucky perceived her as a threat to his and Steve's relationship.
> 
> As always, comments are adored~!


	9. Worried

The morning comes, and Steve hasn't slept a wink. His body feels cramped up, but he doesn't dare move a muscle, knowing that at any moment, he could jostle the other man awake.

Bucky had cried himself out, and the distress that had rolled off of him had nearly destroyed the alpha.

They were back together, and Steve had never felt so far removed from the other man. The brunette had slept fitfully in his arms, every once in awhile a tremor or whimper running through his frame. Steve did his best to soothe him, stroking his hair, his back, but a part of him didn't know if he was making it worse. 

Bucky had always been so strong and sure of himself, a man who wasn't about to let the odds of society roles get him down. He'd been so proud to be in the army, so proud to be accepted and gain rank. But this, he's never seen Bucky so broken.

Schmidt. He'll kill the bastard for this. He doesn't know what all has been done to his friend, but that freak will pay dearly for harming his mate. Steve had never thought that he'd want to kill somebody, but now, he feels he needs to.

Another violent shudder wracks Bucky's body, and Steve shushes him. "It's okay, I've got you, Buck. I've always got you, okay?"

He's disappointed in himself that the words wake the other man up. He'd wanted him to get as much rest as possible. Bucky's grayish eyes alight on him, cloudy and uncertain, and it hurts Steve to see the other man shrink in on himself.

"Morning."

"Morning." Bucky's voice is rough with disuse from crying, and he can't seem to look at the blonde. His mouth is pinched,as if pained by forming the syllables. Steve just wants to pull him to his chest and make sure that no one ever harms him again, but the other man looks too shaken. The silence stretches.

". . . gotta piss." Bucky informs him, voice monotone, and slides out of the bed. Steve runs his hand over the warm indention that Bucky had occupied, eyes closed. Things would be all right, wouldn't they?

"Aren't you supposed to meet Carter?" Bucky asks from the doorway, and Steve curses under his breath. He'd forgotten.

"I. . . yeah, I guess so. It'll be fine." He defers, hoping that it actually will. Now that he's in the army, he wants to stay there. He's not totally sure if Phillips is going to decide at any minute that he's not needed any more.

"You'd better get on with it then." Bucky states dully. "She's a hellcat, I can tell. Probably'll have your ass in a sling if you're a minute late." 

Steve gets up and crosses the room. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, just peachy." Bucky mumbles, and Steve sighs.

"I mean it Buck, I don't wanna-"

"Where the hell do you think you are, Steve? You're in the fucking army. You can't just decide where and when you'll be somewhere. You gotta go, you gotta go." Bucky snaps, and the blonde flinches at the venom in his voice. He meets those stormy eyes, and can see the hurt right at the top, the need to be comforted fighting with his duty. Bucky sighs and reaches out, arms wrapping around Steve's torso. "I'm gonna be fine. For real. We can. . . talk later." He says, and Steve can't help but stroke his hair softly. 

"Okay then. I'll find you."

His feet feel heavy with each step away from his mate, but duty calls. Bucky is right about that.

~*~

The instant Steve is gone, Bucky crumples against the door of the little room, holding his breath. He knows that if he opens his mouth he'll start screaming and might not ever stop. 

How could this happen?

Nothing felt right anymore, not his body, not what he wanted, hell, Steve didn't even fit perfectly into his arms anymore. Wrapping around the now taller man was foreign and disconcerting. Bucky closes his eyes.

_You have a duty._

Wearily, he makes his way to the bathroom to clean up before reporting for it.

~*~

"-Rogers? Are you listening?" Steve snaps out of his thoughts and looks back up at Carter, well aware of the terse line of her lips. She and Stark had been going over new gear for him, and like a fool he's let his mind wander. 

It's hard for it not to.

"Yes, Sir. Sorry." He smiles grimly. "The shield? I think I'd like the round one."

With a sigh, Peggy steps closer to him. "I know that your mind is focused on other things right now, but we really have to pay attention to the task at hand."

Steve balks, face red with shame. Of course he had to put his emotions on the back-burner, whether he wanted to or not. "My apologies, it won't happen again."

He can see Stark eyeballing them from the far side of the table as if wanting to be a part of the conversation. Steve purposely turns his back to him.

"Sergeant Barnes. . . do you think he's fit for duty?"

Carter's words shock him, even though he knew they were coming. He likes her, he really does, and under different circumstances, things might have turned out differently. But Bucky needs him, and he always had needed Bucky. There was no time to think about where and when Peggy Carter might fit into their relationship, if at all.

All he can think about is Bucky pleading with him last night.

_. . . don't you let anyone make me go home!. . ._

Even Bucky had known that the Army would find his capture problematic. Eyes burning blue, he looks Peggy dead in the eye.

"There is no man in this army that I would trust more at my side than Bucky. He's an excellent sniper and a loyal friend. He deserves to be here."

"Are you sure you're not just saying that because he is your omega?"

It's a matter of fact statement, but he can see the underlying hurt in Peggy's eyes. But he and Bucky had been together long before Carter had ever been a part of the picture. He smiles sadly.

"He's my omega, yeah. But that's not what this is about. This is about a good soldier who fell on some bad circumstances. Who wants to serve his country to the fullest. It's not about whether he's alpha or omega, male or female. He wants to serve. Anybody who wants to stop HYDRA and the Nazis should be able to. After all," He says with a bitter smile, "Not long ago there was a little runt from Brooklyn who wanted that and nothing more, and even he got his wish."

If Carter is taken aback, she doesn't look it. She nods primly, but places a hand on his shoulder. "Steve, he has been through a lot. The men have said-"

"The men should learn to keep their damn mouths shut." He scoffs, and undeniable anger that Bucky's men would gossip about what happened to him behind his back. "Loose lips sink ships, right?"

"Of course, they should, but what they should do and what they will do are two separate things." She takes another step closer, presumably to make it harder for Stark to hear. "I'm worried about him. He looked like a ghost when you brought the men back to the camp. Was he at least doing better last night?"

Steve stiffens. Of course the answer is no, but he can't rat Bucky out like that. "He's. . . going to be okay. He just needs a little time."

Carter looks up at him, chocolate eyes sympathetic. "I understand Steve, but war is hell. . . something like this might not be easy to get over in a stressful situation."

"I know." He states, sadness creeping into his voice despite himself. She gives him a small smile and squeezes his shoulder, before there's a cough behind them. They look back to see Howard practically twitching with irritation.

"C'mon guys, if you're gonna be all secretive, can you at least not do it with me in the room?" He rolls his eyes dramatically and Steve can't help but smile. "After all, it's not like I have anything amazing to show you two."

Steve tries to pay attention. After all, he'll need everything possible to keep Bucky safe at his side.


	10. Absolution

They stay in London for a week. Steve is grateful; they could rush back into things and not give the men any time to rest, but thankfully they do. By the time they are ready to ship out, he wants the weariness to melt away, leaving fresh eyes and determination to their cause.

He'd told them the team he'd wanted, and Phillips had nearly had a conniption when he realized that Bucky was a part of it. Apparently, no one thought that he was fit for duty.

Except for Steve. Even Peggy had done what she could to say that the omega was fit to go back into duty. 

For the most part he is. 

They still share the same bed at night, fully clothed even though Steve's blood boils and he wants his mate so badly it hurts. But he won't push Bucky; he can't. Not after everything that the omega has been through.

The first few days, Bucky had been assigned to bed rest, but he hadn't taken well to that at all. During every break that Steve had, he'd gone back to the room to see him sitting on the window ledge, gazing into the distance, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Most times, it's nothing but ash, a sign of just how long Bucky has zoned out.

On the third day, he's come back to an empty room. Steve tries to tamp his panic down, but the more places he goes, the bar, hq, the medics, there is no trace of the other man. 

London is a huge city, but considering all the evacuations, it's pretty much dead. It's really too bad that they're not here during brighter times; the streets are empty and the whole town feels haunted by the metropolis it had been before the war, He can't even appreciate the centuries old Tower of London in front of him, so focused on finding his mate he is.

He wracks his brain. Where would Bucky go? Would it be far? Maybe he's just wandering the streets, lost in his thoughts. Steve scents the air for anything resembling Bucky.

Up ahead, he sees the Tower Bridge looming in the mid afternoon drizzle, and it seems as good a place to start as any.

He must know Bucky better than he thinks, because the silhouette in the distance is familiar.

Bucky is standing against the railing, looking down into the tepid waters of the Thames. Steve isn't a paranoid man, but he doesn't like the look on his friend's face.

It looks like he's given up on everything.

"Bucky?" He calls out tentatively, but the other man doesn't even look up, just stares blankly at nothing.

Slowly, he walks up to the Bucky's side, wanting to reach out and hold him close, but he's not sure if the contact is wanted.

"I wanted to be somewhere familiar." He whispers, and Steve looks questioningly at him. It doesn't take any goading for him to go on. "I mean, it's not the Brooklyn Bridge, but at least it's not full of people asking if I want bangers and mash or a cuppa."

Steve gives him a sad lopsided grin. "I miss it too. But I'd rather be here with you anyhow. Wherever you are, that'll always be home for me."

Bucky snorts and looks him square in the eye. "Dammit, Rogers, you're such a cornball. You really think anyone'd fall for a line like that?"

"I have you don't I?" Bucky gazes back at the water, eyes pensive and sad. He doesn't answer and Steve swallows harshly. "I mean, if you still want me." He says slowly, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. It's hard to imagine a life without Bucky Barnes, but whatever that is, he's not sure that he wants to live it.

"Why wouldn't I, Stevie? You're probably the one that wouldn't want me."

Steve steps closer to envelop Bucky into his arms, heart dropping as the other man's frame stiffens in his embrace. Slowly, Bucky relaxes into his warmth, and he starts to think that, maybe, just maybe, things might be okay.

"I'll never not want you, jerk. You know I don't lie. So stop being an ass and listen to me. I love you. I've always loved you, and I will always love you. I don't care what comes between us. You've got my heart forever." Steve murmurs into the omega's ear, lips brushing delicately against the soft curl of flesh. 

"You're too good to be true, you sappy punk." He hears Bucky murmur, but he just holds him tighter. Every word is the truth. He'll never let Bucky go again.

"Ugh, stop, you're going to squeeze me to death!" The brunette complains, and he eases up slightly.

He wants to say more, everything he feels, and how much he needs the other man. Wants to fold him in his arms and envelop him in kisses and never let him go again.

"Captain Rogers!"

Steve's head whips us Bucky jerks out of his grip, torn with military duty and the loss of privacy. The man that runs up is one he recognizes, one of Phillips' men.

"You're needed by the Colonel, sir."

Steve wants to strangle responsibility. He casts an apologetic eye at Bucky, but before he can say anything, the brunette lightly pushes him on the shoulder in the right direction.

"Go on Cap, we've got work to do, don't we?"

A hopeful smile on his lips, Steve nods.

As he jogs back to camp, he feels as if he's leaving a part of himself back on the bridge.

~*~

_"There, there, Hündin. A little pain is good for you."_

_Bucky whines through the his teeth, each muscle in his frame taut. His body burns. He's been tied like this for so long, he almost can't remember what it feels like to be unbound._

_But he has to be good. He tries to be good._

_Only good boys get release._

_Even so, he can't help the tremor that runs through his body as the other man slams into him. He doesn't even know why he's tied up, he doesn't lash out anymore. He's beginning to think that Schmidt likes him like this, all wrapped up like a gift-_

_Schmidt thrusts against his prostate, and the brunette has to bite back a scream. It hurts so much, but still feels so good. He thinks that he could go mad from the sensation._

_His head rocks back as Schmidt slaps him across the face. "I know that look." He states, tone warning. "Do not dare come unless I command it."_

_The pressure builds in his groin as the other man slams ruthlessly into him, his need for release becoming harder and harder to hold back. If only the other man would let him._

_Schmidt rips the gag from his mouth, and he can taste the tang of blood coating the slobber that drips from the corner of his mouth. "Is there something you want, Hündin?"_

_Normally, he would never speak back, but he's been asked directly. He hopes a pleading will not be a mistake._

_"Please, please let me come!" He begs, and Schmidt laughs harshly._

_"You love this cock, don't you, my little slut?"_

_Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to admit it. The alpha has already won._

_"Yes, I love it, Master, please breed me!" He cries, and the laughter peals on. Schmidt starts shaking him hard, skinless lips encroaching closer to his own. His mouth opens to accept the kiss, but instead, they open._

". . . Bucky?"

The brunette blinks in confusion, and then Schmidt fades, the German's office melting away into the sparse room that he and Steve have been sharing. He feels confused, aroused.

Ashamed.

Steve soothes his fingers through his hair, so concerned. So lovingly. "Bucky, you're having a nightmare. I'm here. It's going to be okay."

He ducks his head against the swell of Steve's chest, breathing in that familiar scent. He doesn't know how else to push away the echoes of Schmidt. Everything is just too exhausting.

He wants to be free of the German.

Before he can stop himself, his lips are on Steve's. The blonde's eyes widen in shock, but he can feel the telltale press of his manhood between his thighs. Their tongues slide slickly against one another, and all Bucky wants is more of that warmth, more of Steve to wash away the memories of Schmidt.

The blonde breaks the kiss, searching his eyes imploringly. "Buck, are you sure you're-"

The brunette palms the swell of Steve's cock through his boxers, smiling at the way that Steve groans, just for him. 

"Make me forget him." He states softly, daring to look into those baby blues. "Make me know that I am the only one for you."

Steve pauses slightly, desire rolling off of him like a fine cologne. His eyes almost tear up. Steve truly does want him, his trepidation only speaks for the worry he has for his omega.

Bucky's hand flits inside the opening of Steve's boxers, and that's all it takes. Even as he strokes the alpha to fullness, he knows that Steve is ready, has been more than ready for longer than this. The blonde shrugs off his undershirt, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest. Bucky swallows. Steve is beautiful.

But he always has been. Even scrawny and all sharp angles and pride, from the soft lace of his eyelashes to his firm jaw, to the ribs that protruded from his small chest, Bucky had traced the blue lines of his veins and kissed each part that Steve had considered an imperfection.

There. Bucky can feel the flutter in his belly at the thought of them together. Once small and sickly, this now strong and broad man is still his alpha. 

Steve peels his boxers off, cock thick and jutting from him. He's already so hard, and Bucky can feel himself moistening at the sight.

His alpha.

Delicately, Steve removes Bucky's shirt and boxers, a look of happiness on his face that the brunette is already so aroused. All for him.

He intends to be.

Steve's fingers seek out his slick entrance, watching his face for any sign of discomfort as he pushes a finger inside. Bucky bites his bottom lip, the digit seeking out his sweet spot as the alpha presses closer, cock brushing his own. A jolt of passion races between them, and Bucky feels his lip quiver. The blonde quickly uses his lapse to his advantage, sucking on the plush skin before greedily claiming his mouth once again.

Bucky writhes beautifully, speared on fingers and tongue, craving more. His whole body feels flushed with arousal, the tender touches bringing out more notes of pleasure from the man. With each brush against his sweet spot, the Bucky feels like he's going to burst.

Their lips break free of each other. "Stevie. . " He gasps, eyes lidded and voice thick with lust. How could he have ever thought that his body would crave someone else?

There's a flash in his mind, Schmidt's dark eyes. _You are mine, Hündin!_ Bucky flinches visibly, and the smile on Steve's face falters.

"Buck, are you-"

"I need you. Now." Bucky demands, voice cracking at how desperate he sounds. Steve looks uncertain, as if this might be a repeat of a couple nights ago. But it's not, Bucky knows that. His hand seeks out the blonde's cock, swollen and ready for him. He pumps experimentally, relishing the other man's groan. "Please, Steve."

The alpha needs no more prodding. He slips his fingers from him, and lines up to his hole. Bucky can feel the weight of him resting against his pucker, and he rocks against him, wanting more contact. Steve hisses at the sensation. It only spurs the brunette on, that and the look of Steve, bottom lip between his teeth, looking ready to come undone.

Steve starts to push inwards, eyelids fluttering, and for a moment Bucky feels awful, making him wait this long. He should have been there for his mate, not let other things-

No. He won't think of that.

Instead, he tilts his hips up, allowing Steve to slide into him with less resistance. Large hands gently clamp onto his hips, a satisfied growl deep in the blonde's throat as he sinks root deep. Stars flutter on the edge of Bucky's vision, and Steve nuzzles into his neck, warm tufts of air caressing his skin. His whole body feels like it's on fire.

"God, Buck, I've always wanted this."

Despite himself, Bucky chuckles. "We used to do this all the time."

"Not like this." Steve chokes out, voice full of his own demons. "I was never like this."

Bucky lays a hand on Steve's cheek, urging his gaze upwards. Those baby blues look uncertain, and slightly sad for what was.

"Jeez, numbskull. What happened to my stubborn little punk? Did that super serum make you a super softie?" He chides, before claiming the blonde's mouth again. He relaxes into the kiss, tongues wet and slick against each other. They are still too long, when Bucky undulates his hips. Steve gasps softly, and the brunette smiles. "I love you, idiot. Then and now. Doesn't matter what you look like. It's not about that." 

"Even though-"

"No matter what." Bucky states firmly, forehead pressed against his. "Unless you don't claim me." He wriggles again, and can feel the alpha's member twitch inside him in response. "You're the one, Steve. Always."

Those blue eyes turn a little misty, but Steve covers it by barking out a little laugh. "Now who's the cornball, Buck?"

He doesn't get a chance to answer; Steve pulls out and pushes back in, taking every care to hit his prostate on each thrust. It's so sweet and thorough that Bucky feels like his heart might burst out of his skin.

Under his breath, Steve keeps whispering encouragements. "You're so perfect Bucky, God, I love you. Yes, yes, that's good. My perfect mate."

Tears start to eke from the corners of his eyes, so undone by the kindness. This is what he's been missing. Lovemaking with Steve before had been a worried affair on the blonde's part, saturated in self doubt and loathing, worry that he would not be able to satisfy his omega.

But this goes beyond satisfaction. This is everything that Bucky had never known he was missing. 

This is completion.

Bucky cries out as he comes, a single musical peal of ecstasy that washes away all the pain, all the doubts. This is where he belongs.

It doesn't take the other man long to follow. Steve cries out as he comes, the sound of a man long denied the ability to please his mate. As his knot swells inside Bucky, the omega groans, enraptured.

This, this is what it was supposed to be. Strong arms embracing him. The rise and fall of their chests together. Soft kisses on his face. 

Wetness splashes on his cheek, and Bucky gazes up. Steve's crying, eyes shimmering with tears even as he smiles.

"You're such a sap, Rogers." He teases, even though he can feel tears pricking the corners of his own eyes. 

Steve laughs softly, stroking his thumb along Bucky's cheekbone. "I'd rather be a sap than be without you."

Bucky rolls his eyes, for the first time in months feeling like a glimmer of his old self. "Where did you come up with all these terrible lines?"

"Years of watching you. You always were an awful flirt."

"I wasn't-" Bucky gasps as Steve's hips move slightly, knot tugging his sensitive insides along with. He can feel Steve nip lightly at his neck, the soft graze of teeth against his skin electric. He drinks in the scent of his mate, warm and clean and delicious.

This is what he has been missing.

"I love you, Bucky Barnes." Steve whispers into his neck, and the brunette's breath hitches.

This is what he has always wanted. Before Schmidt, before the super serum when it was just the two of them in a scrubby little apartment that was drafty and he covered as many hours as possible to get his alpha medicine and good food to keep his health up, this is what he had needed.

Only Steven Grant Rogers.

"I love you too, you punk." He chokes out, voice a little more overwhelmed than he'd thought. But he doesn't care.

Steve's the only one who'll ever see him so weak again.

The blonde chuckles softly, settling so that the brunette's cheek is against his chest. Steve's skin is soft and warm.He feels safe, finally after all he's been through, all thoughts of Schmidt dashed from his mind.

Bucky's eyes droop, lulled to sleep by the soft thrum of Steve's heartbeat. He feels warm and sated. Loved.

He feels like he's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TUMBLR!](http://ritsuko-chan.tumblr.com)
> 
> Fluff. FLUUUUUUUUUUUUFF~!
> 
> Sorry I've been away so long from updating, I've had a lot of doctors appointments. @.@


	11. Fear

Each mission brings little victories. Between the glimpses of the map of HYDRA strongholds that Steve had gotten, and tiny morsels of information that Bucky had gleaned just from being Schmidt's captive, they are coming closer and closer to smoking HYDRA out of their foxholes and making sure that they will win this war.

It's slow going. There are bad nights, but for the most part, Bucky manages to sleep quietly again. He and Steve sleep connected, his heart pulsing in time with his mate, and he heals slowly but surely. Each day, it becomes easier to purge Schmidt from his mind, except in thoughts of revenge. It becomes easier to extinguish the ugliness inside that the monster had sullied him with.

On a mission, he can focus, throw feelings out the window and do his job. But it hasn't been easy.

They continue to go from HYDRA base to base, each victory coming easier than imagined. It's a strange feeling, coming to terms with the fact that Steve doesn't need him to watch over him anymore, although it still comes easily to him. The Howling Commandos help immensely, but many times, Captain America is all they need. 

Steve makes a striking figure in the new uniform, all trussed up in red, white and blue. Bucky doesn't particularly like him being a human target, but if there's anyone that can handle getting shot at, it's his stubborn alpha. Plus, he can't complain at how good the other man looks in the outfit.

It's snowing as they make their way to the next HYDRA base, nestled deep in the Schwarzwald. Bucky stays close to Steve, a half step behind on his right. The men are tired, but keep trudging on. Since everything that had happened, Bucky had worried that the Commandos would treat him differently, complain that having an omega on the team was what got them captured in the first place and that he needed to go, but no one says a word to him, or against him. And if they have, the complaint wouldn't have lasted through Steve. Whether they are too afraid to go against the good Captain or they just don't care, he'll never know.

"Alright guys," Steve states lowly when they are about a mile out, "I'll take point. You all cover me. Let's try to get in and out with as little noise as possible. Only move when an area is clear. Got it?"

They all nod. They've been through this before, and Steve is selfless when it comes to putting them in danger. Bucky doesn't like it, but he knows he's better picking goons off from a distance than being hand to hand, so it’s something he’s trying to learn to accept. 

All of them branch off, Steve moving through the woods like a shadow, and the rest rush silently behind him. Steve’s already taken five out by the time the alarm is sounded, and bullets sing through the air. He cracks off three shots before advancing, finding a rotten, downed log that is perfect for cover.

Bucky tenses, the scent of expensive cigars, oak and cognac wafting through the air. His body's reaction is immediate, reflexive.

Schmidt.

Wildly, his eyes whip around, fingers clutching his gun like it's a life preserver. There hadn't been any intel Schmidt would be here. The word was he was in Stuttgart.

But maybe the alpha had found out where they were going somehow, was coming to claim what was his. Schmidt was not a man to be crossed, and didn't seem to be the sort that would easily let go of his possessions.

_No._ Bucky reprimands himself. _You're not his. You never were._

It doesn't stop his heart from racing. He scents the air again, relieved that the smell is faded, old. Perhaps Schmidt wasn't even here.

Just in the nick of time he sees the HYDRA goon coming up behind his alpha, gun raised and ready to strike. His finger is on the trigger before he knows it, pure adrenaline and fear guiding the action. The bullet zings through the brisk air and the man crumples. Steve turns in slight confusion, only to see that his omega has saved him. The blonde smiles, gives a little salute and fights on. 

Bucky tries to put it from his mind, scanning the compound for more men that could kill his beloved. It doesn't help to unsettle him. Lurking in every shadow in the corner of his mind, is Schmidt. It takes every fiber of his being to focus on his task, to make sure that he keeps those closest to him safe. His hands are shaking so bad, it’s a wonder he doesn’t shoot the wrong person on accident.

Even when they wrangle up the captured men, the feeling of unease doesn’t leave him. He feels nauseated, as if there is still some looming evil out in the trees, watching and waiting. All of the enemy soldiers glare hatefully at him, using the scent of their dominance to try to spook him.

One man in particular leers at him, yellowed teeth in a snarl. His gaze unnerves Bucky, and he tries to ignore the man, but finally glares back. “What?” he snaps, and for a moment, the German looks shocked. Then, a mask of utter disgust crosses his face.

“You think you are so high and mighty, ja? Following your little team around. Do they make you feel important? Because you are not. I remember you.” He grins, face twisted. “I will always remember the bitch that reeked of our leader’s piss and seed.”

It was Bucky’s turn to be shocked, the man’s admission freezing him to the spot. Of course there would be people who would remember. Hell, everyone on their team remembered, except for Steve, and only because he hadn’t been there. He’s so rooted to the spot in horror, he doesn’t see the man’s spit until it’s already flying through the air, landing on his cheek with a wet smack. 

For a moment, he just blinks in shock, aware of the other man’s filth slipping down his cheek. 

Bucky’s vaguely aware of the rest of the Commandos around him, voices, movement, but all he can see is the Skull in that smile. Every inch of him starts to quake, he feels naked, foul. He almost drops to his knees.

Then a gloved hand is crashing into the German’s mouth, blood and teeth flying through the brisk air. He blinks out of his shock to realize that Steve’s fist has decimated the other man’s mouth. The man screams, blood and bits of bone littering his face. It’s so out of character, so frightening for Steve, that Bucky can’t move.

“Listen up. I suggest if the rest of you don’t want to be eating schnitzel through a straw, you don’t talk like this. No one likes a blabbermouth.” There’s an edge of raw power to the alpha’s voice, one that sends goosebumps down Bucky’s spine. It’s terrifying, and erotic. Steve manages to catch his eye and gives him an apologetic glance. 

It wasn’t Steve’s fault. Only his own, for letting the guy get to him. He looks away, rubbing the spit from his cheek on the back of his forearm, grimacing at the smear it leaves on the blue cloth of his jacket. It would wash out. 

If only everything could be so easily washed away.

“All of you will be dealt with accordingly, but your time can be spent painlessly. But if another one of you insults my mate,” Steve growls out the word, a display of dominance that is lost on no one, “You’ll end up much, much worse than this idiot.” He motions to the bloody man who continues to keen softly on the ground.

They continue with everything, and Steve stays a respectful distance. The last thing that Bucky needs is for people to see him as coddled and weak. Needless to say, Bucky stays shaken even after backup comes to deal with the prisoners. Everything about this day just went wrong.

By the time they’re all sting around a fire ready to eat, Bucky’s barely holding it together. He’s aware of the rest, skirting him and letting him have his space, and knows that Steve is hovering worriedly somewhere. Right now, Bucky doesn’t care about anything, he just wants to sleep forever.

Not an option, all things considered. His mind wanders.

Of course there would still be Schmidt’s men running around, guys that had witnessed what he’d been through. It didn’t make it easy though, not after weeks of brutality etched into his mind. He never wanted to remember those things. 

But he always would, wouldn’t he? No matter how hard he tried to pretend with Steve, it would always lay dormant at the back of his mind. The knowledge that Schmidt had taken him, ravaged him, claimed him. He feels sick.

Even today, thinking he’d smelled the Skull. It chills him to the core, just knowing how close he was to losing Steve, just how badly things could have ended. The blonde finally sits next to him and claps him on the back and he can barely bring himself to smile, feeling like scum.

He could have gotten Steve killed if he'd waited a second longer.

“Don’t worry about it Buck.” His mate says softly. “We’ll get these guys and then head home, and no one will ever say things like that to you again.”

Bucky can feel his jaw twitch, but he manages a weak smile. Who gave a shit what anyone had to say about him? He just wanted to make sure that his mate would be safe.

He doesn’t answer, just lays his head on the other man’s shoulder. He’ll work harder. Do everything that he possibly can to make sure that no one can hurt his alpha, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TUMBLR](http://ritsuko-chan.tumblr.com)


	12. Surprise

Months pass, and every day brings them closer to an end to this war. Needless to say, there's some sense of dread that's hanging over all of the hopeful optimism of the group. It's war after all. Anything can happen. Anyone can be lost.

Steve is already gone by the time Bucky wakes, out rallying the troops and divvying orders. He knows he has to get out there, but the bed is so warm, and he feels so tired. . . with a groan, he rolls out of bed.

He's naked, and immediately grabs his shirt and slips it over his head. For some reason, the fabric irritates his nipples, like sandpaper over his sensitive flesh. He groans, pulling the shirt back over his head, and looks down.

His breath hitches.

Each breast looks slightly softer somehow, a little more plump. Each nipple looks swollen, as if they are engorged, as if they are. . .

Bucky swallows harshly. As if they are readying themselves for milk. 

As if he's pregnant. 

Panicked, he stares down at his bare abdomen, and runs his fingers over the expanse of flesh. Is it larger, softer? His abs seem a little less defined, a slight swell in his belly. Bucky's eyes go wild. 

No.

He barely makes it to the bucket in the corner before vomiting. The entire contents of his stomach end up in the metal container. Groaning, he wipes his mouth with the back of his forearm.

How could this happen? There'd been no sign for months. He'd started taking the suppressants again as soon as they'd been rescued, and there had been nothing to indicate a life inside of him. Delicately, he strokes the skin over his abdomen, definitely noticing how soft it has become.

It's the Skull's. It has to be.

Another shudder wracks through his body, thinking of Schmidt, but not the man who had fucked him into submission. He thinks of that red, noseless, skinless face. The visage of a demon.

His hands splay across his belly and he can't help but whimper. Is that what's in him now? A malformed little monster? Somewhere outside the tentflap, he can hear Steve giving orders, coming closer. Quickly, he scrambles to his feet, rushing back over to his shirt. He manages to plop it over his head just as Steve opens the flap, letting a blustery gust of winter air in.

"Just getting up, Sleeping Beauty?" He smiles softly, and easily crosses the tent to his side. The brunette doesn't know what to say, but Steve doesn't notice his distress, just sweeps him up into his arms for melting kiss. Bucky's eyelids flutter shut.

Steve lets go and chuckles. "Gonna have to put that thing away for the time being, Buck." He jokes, nodding down at Bucky's half hard cock. The other man's lips purse wryly. 

"Gonna havta stop sweeping me off my feet, Prince Charming, or I'm never gonna lose a stiffy around you." He grumbles, and the blonde laughs, clear and happy. Bucky turns to tug his pants on and twinges in horror. What would the blonde think if he knew that the baby inside him was the Red Skull's?

"I'll leave you be. We're heading out to the Alps at 0900. Might wanna get a bite before then." He smiles, attentive as ever. He gives Bucky a chaste little kiss on his lips that makes his stomach flip flop, and then he's gone, back through the tent flap.

Bucky wants to scream, shake until he shatters to pieces. 

Instead, he gets up finishes getting dressed, and jogs out to where the other men are eating breakfast in the chill morning air.

~

"What's wrong Bucky?" Steve asks later that night, and the other man snaps out of his thoughts. He's been a wreck all day, thinking about the life growing inside of him. He knows that he should say something about it, or do something, but he knows if he does, he'll have to leave. Go back to New York, without Steve. Wait for the end of this war, alone with the Skull’s offspring growing in him.

He shudders at the thought.

The blonde puts a soothing hand on his back. "Hey, are you just cold, or are you getting sick?" Worry laces his tone, and Bucky sighs. They'd marched through twenty miles of snowy wilderness all day, and the cold had chilled him to the bone. All day, people had talked to him and he couldn't even remember what they had been saying. All he could think about was the baby.

A superhuman little monstrosity put there by a man that he despised.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Steve asks, all concern. The brunette doesn't even realize he's started crying, but Steve wipes an errant tear from the corner of his eye. Bucky wants to tell him, wants Steve to hold him and rock him and tell him that everything will be alright.

But he's too afraid.

"It's nothing. I'm just really tired. It's been a long day." He whispers, and turns on their makeshift bed so his back is to the blonde. He can practically hear the gears turning in the other man's head, knows that he's looking down at him.

Finally, Steve humphs in irritation as he shucks off his shirt. "C'mon Buck. You gonna sleep in your clothes?" He hears Steve's zipper go down, and his heavy pants thunk to the floor. Despite himself, his hole twitches in anticipation. He doesn't answer.

Finally, Steve grabs his shirt from behind and pulls up. Buck squeaks indignantly and turns to face him. The blonde looks a little shocked, bottom half covered by the blankets but still obviously aroused. They've slept together nearly every night since Bucky was rescued. A pang of despair wracks Bucky's body.

It should be Steve's baby.

"Hey, shhh, Bucky, what's wrong?" The blonde soothes. Bucky realizes he's wrapped his arms around the other man. He starts to sob, devastated by how unfair it all is. Steve just holds him, strokes his back, his hair, anything that he can.

Finally, Bucky pulls away, face determined. "I have something to show you."

"Okay." Steve states, perplexed by his attitude.

"No, Stevie. You don't understand. This is important. It doesn't change anything. I'm staying here, with you. No matter what." He swallows, as Steve's look of confusion deepens. "I belong by your side. Lord knows there ain't a better sniper than me in this unit." He knows he's babbling now. "I mean come on, you coulda had your head blown off back in Montmarth if it wasn't for me-"

"Bucky." Steve's tone is still gentle, but with a slight command in it. "Please. What's this all about?"

The brunette licks his lips. "Promise me." He breathes. "Promise me no matter what, you won't make me leave."

Steve ruffles a hand through his golden hair and huffs a sigh. "You know I need you Bucky. I'd never make you leave."

"Promise!"

"Fine, okay, I promise. You should know I want you here." Steve states, and Bucky searches his face. He knows Steve is honest, knows he will keep his word, and for a moment feels horribly deceptive. 

With a sigh, he tugs his shirt over his chest, fabric scraping over his swollen nipples. He bites his lip and looks up at Steve with worry. The blonde just looks at him in confusion, as if unsure of what he is looking for.

"Buck, what am I. . ." Steve's voice tapers off, and he stares. Slowly, his hand reaches out and covers the small bump of his belly. He feels around, patting it, and looks up with tearful blue eyes. "Bucky?" His voice is thick with emotion. "Are you. . ." 

He can't say the words.

"Pregnant." Bucky affirms with a whisper, gaze dropping in shame. 

The other man throws his arms around him, laughing. "Oh my God, Buck I can't believe this is happening!" He starts kissing the brunette's face, overjoyed. "I never thought that it would be possible for us, that we'd actually have a baby!"

Bucky is about to protest when Steve's mouth finds his own, hot and rapturous. He moans into the other man's mouth, wanting this to be a happy feeling, but it's not. He pushes against Steve's chest, staring sorrowfully into those baby blues.

"Steve." He says, voice cracking. Immediately, the blonde picks up that something is wrong. Bucky swallows. "I don't think it's-"

Before he can say another word, Steve's lips cut off his words, tongue forcefully probing his mouth. Bucky melts into his embrace, arousal creeping through his body. Finally, Steve breaks the kiss, eyes blazing with determination.

"This is my child." Steve demands, blue eyes piercing. "No matter what. This is our child." He strokes Bucky's stomach lovingly. The brunette whimpers slightly, and Steve smiles down. "We're going to have a baby."

Bucky wants the fantasy to be true, wants this to be real so badly. "I love you."

"I love you too, Buck. I always have." Steve kisses him sweetly on the nose. "I'm gonna love you both forever."

The brunette's breath hitches, and suddenly, he's pulling Steve down on top of him. Right now, more than ever, he wants the other man inside of him, wants him to make him feel whole again. 

Steve looks unsure. "Can we? I mean, the baby. . ."

"The baby will be fine. I want you, right now. Inside." He raises an eyebrow. "Or do you not know how to take an order, Captain?" 

The blonde chuckles, but settles between his legs, softly stroking the other man's belly. Then, he makes quick work of Bucky pants pulling them down the omega's legs to toss in the corner. The brunette's pucker is already wet in anticipation of Steve's intrusion, but the other man still fingers it slightly.

"Stop being a damn tease." Bucky complains, and Steve chuckles.

Their baby. With each thrust into his body, Bucky is reaffirmed that his alpha will take care of him, will love him.

No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TUMBLR!](http://ritsuko-chan.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://ritsuko-chan.tumblr.com)


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